


There Lived A Hobbit

by honeycakes



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure, Amused Gandalf, Bag End, Bilbo doesn't care much for Thorin's attitude, Cheeky dwarves are cheeky, Comfort Reading, Company of Thorin Oakenshield - Freeform, Dancing, Dwarves, Dwarves being slobby, Eating, Female Bilbo, Haughty Dwarf King, Hobbits, Stubborn Dwarves, Thorin being an ass, exasperated Bilbo, fem!Bilbo, smoke rings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-08 17:20:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 67,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1135364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeycakes/pseuds/honeycakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My take on The Hobbit, as it would be if Bilbo Baggins were a lady hobbit. </p><p>As a note, I am very susceptible to prompts and requests, so if you have ideas of where you'd like this to go, do let me know.  :}</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short introduction to Bilbo Baggins, the hobbit lass who lives in Bag End.

In the middle of a hill, there was a hole. It was a comfortable, well-kept hobbit hole, filled with old furniture, warm sunlight, and good smells. At this moment, outside of the hobbit hole, a hobbit lass was sitting in a sunny spot on her bench, puffing away on her pipe. Her name was Bilbo Baggins. The Bagginses were known far and wide for their fine manners and respectable ways, always behaving the way a good hobbit ought to. And there wasn't a finer hobbit lass than Bilbo Baggins that could be found this side of the Shire. Sure, she had that fascination with maps and stories from far off lands that confused those around her, and then there was that look she'd get in her eyes at times, that strange, fiery glint of trouble that seemed, frankly, unhobbitish. But from her honey coloured curls to her furry toes, there was no denying that Bilbo was a Baggins, through and through.

As Bilbo sat in the sun with her pipe, she thought over the events of her day. She had been to market, picked up a fine cheese for entertaining guests and a bolt of grass-green fabric for the dress she planned to make for the Midsummer Festival coming up in a couple months. Then after a hearty second breakfast, she'd carefully stitched up a split seam on her favourite bodice, a sunny yellow one which made her hazel eyes sparkle in a golden way. After that she'd spent a good hour digging weeds out of her window box, careful not to disturb her prize-winning violets. All before lunch! Bilbo smiled inwardly at her own efficiency, and then shifted her mind to what still needed doing.

Firstly, she was running low on honey cakes. That would never do, her friends and relatives had come to expect them when they came for tea. Another couple batches of those would need to be made straight away.

Nextly, it was Lobelia Sackville-Baggins's birthday coming up sometime in the coming week. That meant there was a friendly note to write, and a bunch of flowers or bundle of radishes or something of that ilk to be bundled up as a present. Bilbo looked to her pretty garden and frowned, wondering if maybe a cabbage with a bow on it wouldn't do. After all, just a few months back on Bilbo's own birthday, Lobelia had given her a small duck carved out of firewood. At least a cabbage could be enjoyed!

And then there was- Well, she could always go visiting. Catch up on town news. Bilbo was not at all a fan of gossip, but as a Baggins, she was expected to be aware of all the goings-ons, in case she had to fill others in. But past that, her day was just about free!

Bilbo chewed distractedly on her pipe, thinking. Her life had fallen rather spectacularly into a pattern. Not that there was anything wrong with that, mind. You always knew where you were with a pattern. They did lack... Well, a certain something though, she thought. A sense of fun, or of... something. She waved to a hobbit lass passing by on the path in front of her gate, who returned the gesture as well as she could with a rowdy, gurgling fauntling in her arms. Bilbo smiled, gazing at the soft dark curls and the large dark eyes and the small chubby fingers. Not for the first time, she wondered if perhaps it was time for her to settle down. Find a good, clean, handsome hobbit to settle down with, raise a handful of little'uns. All things considered, it was a good time for it. She was a fine looking lass of 36, still young, but without the chubby cheeks that'd clung to her most of her life. She had a lovely thick head of curly brown hair, eyes that were always stuck between the brightest shade of green and the softest shade of brown. And between her charming, rosy smile and plump little curvy body, she certainly had her fair share of suitors. But sadly, Bilbo just hadn't yet found the right match. She'd thought long and hard about it, and her desire to care for little faunts of her own just didn't quite match her need for a companion who'd appreciate her quick humour and her sharp mind. Sadly, she seemed to outwit most of the males around her. Bilbo liked riddles and stories more than gossip and belching. And while the image of a sweet child perched on her knee appealed to her, the accompanying image of a fat hobbit reclined in a chair with his eyes shut and drool gathering in the corners of his mouth...

Bilbo shook herself with a soft 'harrumph' of displeasure. No, better to deal with the moments of loneliness than with a clod of a husband. Hers was a good life, a life she was both proud of and comfortable in. And so, she crossed her furry feet, puffed out a wide smoke ring, and closed her eyes with a smile, thinking, “Truly, I am a lucky hobbit. A lucky, comfortable hobbit, indeed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then of course, a shadow blocked her sunlight. Squinting up, she saw a tall figure in grey robes, peering at her from under the brim of his large, pointed hat. Caught off guard by the stranger, and not wanting to seem rude, Bilbo shifted in an attempt to look more welcoming, and raised her pipe to him with a nod.
> 
> "Good morning," said she.
> 
> \--------
> 
> Well, there you have it! Chapter one! I hope you enjoyed it, and thank you very much for reading. :}


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wizard makes himself known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then of course, a shadow blocked her sunlight. Squinting up, she saw a tall figure in grey robes, peering at her from under the brim of his large, pointed hat. Caught off guard by the stranger, and not wanting to seem rude, Bilbo shifted in an attempt to look more welcoming, and raised her pipe to him with a nod.
> 
> "Good morning," said she.

There was a stretch of silence as Bilbo stared up at the odd fellow. At least, she assumed it was a fellow, as he appeared to be mostly hair. From under the wide brim of his hat, she could spy thick, furrowed eyebrows, a pair of clever eyes as blue as the sky, a large, hooked nose, and from there a thick mustache which became a thick beard as it went on. And did it ever go on! It tumbled down the front of his grey robes, and tangled into his belt buckle. Not only that, the tall stranger had hair, equally as long and thick, which tumbled down over his back and sides and front, dancing in the wind in a most peculiar way. Bilbo furrowed her brow as she considered him, standing directly in the way of her view, holding a walking stick which was taller than even he was. Not only that, but he was quite rudely staring at her!

 

And then her brows jumped back up, and she stared quite determinedly back, refusing to back down to this interruption of her sunny moment. A rude interruption, who hadn't even responded to her friendly greeting.

 

The silence continued on for a moment, before the beard rustled, and a voice rumbled from somewhere beneath it.

 

“What do you mean?” he said. “Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?"

 

'Well,' thought Bilbo as she squinted up under the hat. 'What a very strange fellow indeed!' and she opened her mouth to respond, before realizing that she was at a complete loss as to what she should say. She shifted uncomfortably on her bench and waved her pipe around in a distracted way.

 

“I- uhrm, well, that is to say... Oh, all of them at once, I suppose!” she finally answered, and then stuck her pipe back between her lips, took a deep pull from it, and produced a rather pretty circle of smoke, which floated up above her, before catching on the pointed tip of his hat. It was a rather confusing action on her part, but for the life of her, she knew not how she was meant to respond.

 

By the way his eyes crinkled and his head tilted, she was rather left to believe that she'd done it wrong. He looked- well, a number of things! Disappointed? Thoughtful? Hopeful? Stern? Wary? And for all those conflicting looks he gave her, he continued to give off this strange air. A sort of... A familiar sense. A friendly one. It was most unnerving, and Bilbo found her indignation rising as she looked at him.

 

“I'm sorry, but can I help you?” she blurted. One of his bushy brows lifted.

 

“That remains to be seen,” he muttered, almost more to himself than to her. “I am looking for someone to share in an adventure that I am arranging.” he announced, and then leaned forward a bit, eyes focused on her, as though to gauge her reaction.

 

Her reaction was to still for a moment, then to splutter rather impolitely, and then to bang her elbow against her bench as she jumped up to her feet. Why she did this, well, not even Bilbo really knew, because more than anything, her jerky action rather came off as her leaping up to volunteer for that adventure he had just mentioned!

 

Flustered, Bilbo waved her hands around, and turned stiffly to walk over to her mailbox, all the while staring up at the man.

 

“An _adventure_? Well, I- WELL! I can't imagine anyone from these parts who'd want to take part in- in one of _those_!Nasty, uncomfortable things. They make you late for dinner, eh, don't they!” she said, digging around in her mailbox, and then making a show of rifling through her letters, peering at them as though trying to read through the envelope, attempting to look much to busy to continue any sort of conversation with the giant beard in front of her. Who was still staring at her, with an expression crossed between amusement and irritation. Bilbo turned, squaring herself to him, hands on her hips, and puffed out her chest, ready to tell him off for his rude, unnerving ways!

 

“Good morning!” was what burst forth from her. She stood for a second longer, before turning to bound up her stairs and back into her home. She paused on the first step, however, and turned back to him, driven by a quiet voice in her head which whispered that it was only right to assist him on his quest. A quiet and rather suspiciously Took-ish voice.

 

“We don't want any adventures here,” she exclaimed, half to the man and half to her confusing jumbled up thoughts. “You might try over The Hill or across The Water, you might try Bree, I hear many adventure-types find their way there!” she said, and felt rather pleased at herself for responding in a helpful, polite sort of way, in spite of his own impoliteties. With that, a nod, and a final shout of “Good morning!”, she turned and continued to her door.

 

“What a lot of things you do use 'Good morning' for!" said the fellow. "Now you mean that you want to get rid of me, and that it won't be good till I move off.” And Bilbo paused at that, looking back with a guilty frown. “To think should have lived to be 'Good morninged' by Belladonna Took's daughter, as if I was selling buttons at the door!” he huffed, sounding really quite annoyed.

 

Now Bilbo turned back again, fiddling with her skirts in a nervous way, feeling both cowed by his words and shocked at his casual use of her mother's name. Something in her face seemed to strike the man, for his eyes softened considerably, annoyance replaced by a sort of troubled look of affection.

 

“You have changed, Bilbo Baggins. And I'm not altogether convinced that it has been for the better.”

 

Well now at that, Bilbo did start, coming back down the steps to stare at him from closer-up. He seemed to know her, for he had said her name in a most familiar way, with an almost fatherly note of tenderness. All propriety forgotten, she leaned up against her fence peering up at him, studying what she could see of his face. Now she was looking for it, he did look surprisingly rather familiar.

 

“I'm sorry, do I know you?” she asked.

 

“Well, you do know my name, though you've forgotten that I belong to it. I am Gandalf, and Gandalf means me,” he answered. Bilbo considered that, muttering the name to herself, trying to place it.

 

“Gandalf, Gandalf, Ga- Oh my, not Gandalf, the wandering wizard who once thrilled us little'uns with exciting stories of daring deeds and wild lands? Not the fellow who used to make such particularly excellent fireworks, like great snapdragons and bursting lillies? My goodness, I had no idea you were still in business!” She exclaimed this all excitedly as the memories came flooding back of sitting on the edge of his cloaks, surrounded by equally enraptured fauntlings, gazing up at bursting colours and listening to a rumbling voice describing elves and dragons and spells. So excited she was by her memories, she didn't realize how her ending statement could be taken as quite rude till she'd said it, and then all she could do was jam the end of her pipe back into her mouth as she backed away abashedly.

 

Indeed, that look of annoyed amusement was back in Gandalf's eyes. He'd rather puffed up in response to her words.

 

“And where else should I be?” he grumbled as he looked down at her in a stern way. “All the same I am pleased to find you remember something about me. You seem to remember my fireworks kindly, at any rate,” he said in a thoughtful sort of way. She could think of no way to respond to that, so she decided it best to not say anything. And so a short silence bloomed awkwardly between them, til Gandalf lifted his staff, only to drive it quite firmly into the ground before him, wrapping his hands around it with an air of finality.

 

“Well, that's decided then. It shall be very good for you, and most amusing for me. I will go inform the others,” he said then, sounding very decided indeed, though it took Bilbo a moment to understand what he meant. And then she spluttered back into action, yanking her skirt up out of the way and scurrying up the stairs, calling back to him all the while.

 

“No, no, nonono, I beg your pardon, I don't want anything to do with any adventures, thank you very much! I- I'm very busy!” and she turned at the door, attempting an important and daunting air. “I've got _baking_ to do!” she hollered, and nearly smacked herself for how ridiculous she sounded. “GOOD _MORNING_!” said she, and with that she opened her door, scuttled backward into her home, and nearly slammed the door on her twirling skirt. And then she locked herself in, fell back against her door, and stood as still as she could with her chest heaving and her eyes darting around, ready to flee should he attempt to follow her in.

 

It was all very quiet for a moment. And then she caught, just on the edge of her hearing, a soft, scratching sound. Like something scraping gently against her door. It was over quickly, and then she heard a deep, rumbly voice humming a lively little tune, and getting fainter as the voice's owner walked further off. She huffed in annoyance, imagining him moving off into town to harass other good hobbits, giving everyone quite a fright. She had half a mind to chase after him with a broom and beat him away from her beloved town, she'd surely be praised for her bravery by her neighbours. But after a moment of thought, she instead stomped off in the direction of her kitchen, huffing and harrumphing, to get started on her honey cakes. 'Well,' she thought, thank goodness that's over.' And as she bent down to grab a sack of flour from her pantry, she managed to brush off the soft pang of regret she felt in her chest, determined not to think on it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was the following afternoon before Bilbo had managed to relax back into her routine, all thoughts of the disturbing wizard gone from her mind. She set herself to the most hobbity tasks, eating twice as much as she normally did, harvesting some gorgeous tomatoes from her vines, and cutting arrangements of sweet-smelling flowers from her garden to set on the table. She even went as far as to visit some of her neighbours, collecting a few articles of clothing (a shirt with a button missing, a pair of trousers with a great hole in the bottom, a pair of suspenders that just weren't behaving as suspenders ought to) to mend. She donned her lovely yellow frock, and read her most beloved stories when the business of the day was done. Towards the later end of the evening, Bilbo rose from her fat, comfy armchair, stretched luxuriously, and made her way to her kitchen to prepare a bite of supper. She had just sat down to her plate of fish and potatoes when there was, quite suddenly, a knock on the door.
> 
> \--------
> 
> Well, here's another chapter! Thanks to everyone for reading, I am having the best time writing this. I hope you enjoy it, and please feel free to comment. :}


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then, suddenly, a dinner party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was the following afternoon before Bilbo had managed to relax back into her routine, all thoughts of the disturbing wizard gone from her mind. She set herself to the most hobbity tasks, eating twice as much as she normally did, harvesting some gorgeous tomatoes from her vines, and cutting arrangements of sweet-smelling flowers from her garden to set on the table. She even went as far as to visit some of her neighbours, collecting a few articles of clothing (a shirt with a button missing, a pair of trousers with a great hole in the bottom, a pair of suspenders that just weren't behaving as suspenders ought to) to mend. She donned her lovely yellow frock, and read her most beloved stories when the business of the day was done. Towards the later end of the evening, Bilbo rose from her fat, comfy armchair, stretched luxuriously, and made her way to her kitchen to prepare a bite of supper. She had just sat down to her plate of fish and potatoes when there was, quite suddenly, a knock on the door.

Moving instinctively, as a polite hobbit would, Bilbo stood and went in the direction of her front door. She had moved a few steps before her mind fully caught up with her, and then she stopped. It was nearing nine o'clock in the evening. Any typical sort of hobbit, and truly the Shire was full of only the typical sort of hobbit, would be snuggly warm in their houses and just sitting down to supper, much as she was. So, logic'ly thinking, it wouldn't be a neighbour knocking. And then all at once an image of a tall, hairy wizard towering over her popped into her mind and she made a soft whining noise of discomfort, hopping from foot to foot as she tried to think of the right course of action, all the while aware that whoever was standing on her porch would likely be getting irritated at their knock going on ignored. And sure enough, there came a second, louder knock.

Well, that second knock was enough to nudge Bilbo into action. She spun on her heel, skirts fanning out behind her, and ran back into her kitchen, quickly filling her kettle and putting it on the fire. Then back into her pantry she went, and grabbed a plate with a few sweet little honey cakes, freshly made and dribbling icing in small rivers. She leapt out of the pantry, slid the plate onto her table, and then dashed to her door in time for a third, loud knocking. She paused a moment to pat her hair in its bun and to adjust her skirt, and then swung the door open, already apologizing for the long wait her guest had endured.

But her words died away as she registered the fellow on the other side of the door. She'd been half expecting a length of grey robes and a pointy hat. What she saw instead provided much more of a shock. For there, bold as can be on her stoop, there stood a dwarf. Bilbo's mouth snapped shut as her eyebrows shot to her hairline in surprise. She blinked hard, but he was very definitely there, real as day. He stood in the light from her front room, a great, hulking figure. Bilbo was not the tallest hobbit, but she only made it up to his shoulder, and what a shoulder it was. The dwarf seemed to be made entirely out of muscle, he was big, bulky, and heavily tattoed. Even his bald head sported inky symbols. A scar slashed over one of his dark, narrowed eyes, he more scars criss-crossed over his large nose, and a hard, thin mouth was all but hidden behind a long mustache and an impressively bushy beard. And his clothes! He sported furs, leathers, a great heavy belt, and Bilbo could swear she saw a dagger sheathed on his hip. This dangerous fellow was now turning to face her, for it seemed he'd been making his way to a window to peer in to search out a host. He looked down past his nose at her, the corners of his mouth dragging down in an most unimpressed sort of way, and then abruptly pushed past her into Bag End. Once in, he turned to her, grabbed the door out of her hand, making her squeak with alarm, closed the door heavily, and gave her a short bow, one arm crossing his broad chest.

“Dwalin, at your service,” he growled, sounding less than pleased about offering his service to a small lady hobbit. Bilbo felt a soft barb of annoyance toward him, a huge warrior dwarf taking liberties with her door, but it hardly made a dent in her numbing confusion. 

“I, oh- B-Bilbo Baggins, at yours!” she managed squeakily, giving a short bobbing curtsy. This seemed to satisfy him, because he nodded, and then turned, inspecting her home with a suspicious eye. She cleared her throat, and tried to catch his eye.

“Excuse me, but do we know each other?” she asked. He gave her a look, coldly appraising her. “No,” he said shortly. And then he walked off into her living room, calling over his shoulder to her.

“Well, where is it?” he asked, which quite caught her off-guard. Much like every other part of this interaction.

“Where is what?” she responded faintly, trailing after him.

“Supper! He said there'd be food here. And lots of it!” he said. He rounded the corner into her kitchen, and she heard a chair scraping the floor as it was pulled out and dropped into heavily.

“He? He? What he?” Bilbo muttered, and then turned the corner herself, in time to watch helplessly as the warrior dwarf dug into her plate of supper. With his hands. And he'd put his great dagger on the table as well! Now Bilbo really couldn't find anything to say, for what do you say to a dwarf with a large dagger? She settled for flapping her hands nervously at her sides and trying not to stare. Which is more than could be said for Dwalin, who was staring quite fixedly at her from under his heavy brow. Bilbo cleared her throat, now fiddling with her skirts. He made quick work of her supper, and soon all the potatoes, and the entire fish, bones and all, had been chomped through. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, succeeding somehow in adding more filth to his dirty face, and then made an appreciative noise.

“Very good, tha'. Have ye got any more?” he grumbled, and then caught sight of the honey cakes. He was on them quickly, and began chewing loudly as crumbs dropped into his beard. The site of her sweet cakes being ripped to bits by his large teeth was enough to draw words out of Bilbo.

“Look, master dwarf,” she began in as respectful a tone as she could muster. “The thing is, you see, I wasn't expecting any company tonight!” No sooner had she said this, a knock came at the door, and she jerked around to face the sound. There came a rumbling belch behind her.

“That'll be the door,” Dwalin said. And Bilbo rushed over to the door, pulling it open, and staring out- Why, staring out at another dwarf! This dwarf was much older than Dwalin, his beard as snowy white as the hair on his head. He gave her a small, friendly smile, and swept into a bow.

“Balin, at your service,” said he. Well, he was definitely more polite than the other dwarf, less imposing as well, for he was only a little taller than she, and where Dwalin wore armor, Balin wore a set of red robes with a wide belt across his middle. But even without the armor and the scars, it was still a shock for the little hobbit to see.

“Good evening,” she responded, unfortunately less politely than she meant. But Balin tilted his head and studied her with more curiosity than cruelty, and gave a short nod.

“It is, yes. Although I think it might rain later,” he answered, stepping past Bilbo into her home. She closed the door and then stared after him as he went through to the living room. There he stopped, and so did she, as they both took in the sight of Dwalin, who had finished her cakes and gotten his hand stuck in the cookie jar on her mantle since last she'd seen him. Balin gave a warm, rumbling laugh at the sight of him, and strode forward.

“Evening, brother!” The warrior looked down at him, and a smile split his scarred face.

“Ho!” he responded. “By my beard! You're shorter and wider than last we met.” 

“Wider, not shorter. And still sharp enough for both of us,” Balin retorted in a merry way, winking and grasping his brother's shoulders. Dwalin gave a throaty chuckle, and then grasped Balin's shoulders in a similar way. For a moment they stared fondly at each other, and then to Bilbo's shock, they reared back and headbutted each other! Quite hard! The dull crack of it nearly echoed through Bag End! And still they were all smiles and chuckles to each other! Bilbo put a hand to her stomach, suddenly feeling rather unwell, and gave a rather loud cough to draw their attention.

“Excuse me!” she said, quite surprising herself with the firmness of her tone. She put her fists on her hips and strode up to them, determined to be strong in front of these bothersome brothers. “Now see here. I like playing hostess to all manner of guests, like any other hobbit. But I do much prefer knowing my guests BEFORE they come a-calling! Now- Now you've got me quite flustered, barging in on my quiet evening, and I'm sorry, but I've got to make my feelings on the matter known!” Her little speech done, she gave a quiet huff as she stared up at the two, who stared right back, and then looked at each other. Bilbo forced herself to stand her ground, nervous as she was at their silent communication. They turned back to her, and Balin nodded.

“Apology accepted,” he said. And before Bilbo could start spluttering, he placed a large hand on her shoulder, and said, “And now Miss Baggins, if you don't mind, it's been a rather long journey for me. I'd be much obliged if you could show me to a spot of supper, and perhaps a beer as well, if it's not too much trouble.” And his eyes glinted in such a cheeky way as he smiled warmly at her, that in spite of her indignation, she found herself turning to tromp off to her pantry, leaving the two brothers to chat. When she returned a little while later, they'd moved to her dining room and were sitting at her long table. Bilbo distributed her load between them, which consisted of two mugs of beer, a fair hunk of beef, one of her smaller loaves of bread, a wee block of cheese, and half a dozen boiled eggs. The two had just raised their tankards to her, and then to each other with a cheer, when another knock sounded at the door. Bilbo made a noise of distress, wringing at her skirt as she looked at her two guests. Balin gave her a kind, slightly apologetic face, and Dwalin pointed with his beer in the direction of the door in a clear sign that she should go answer it. And so she did.

At the door this time, there stood a pair of dwarves, although it took a moment for it to register that that was what they were. They were both a good foot taller than her, but they looked a great deal fairer than the pair she'd left at her table. The taller of the two sported a head of long, tawny hair. He had a handsome face, with bright blue eyes and a charming smile which shone from between a braided mustache and a short beard. The shorter was a darker looking fellow, with a head of wavy dark hair, and a pair of dark eyes. His smile was rather decidedly cheeky, without more than a layer of scruff hiding it, and he had a definite air of mischief about him. To speak honestly, they looked more like tall adventurous hobbits, or perhaps short men, than dwarves. But they announced that they were Fili and Kili, and that they were very much at her service. Now really, this was getting to be ridiculous.

“No!” exclaimed Bilbo. “No, I'm sorry, you've got the wrong house, you can't come in!” and she made to shut the door on them, manners be damned. But the dark one, Kili, jammed himself in the way, grabbing her by the wrist with his large hand in the same moment. 

“What, has it been canceled?” he asked, looking rather distressed by the thought.

“We haven't been told anything about it,” came the voice of the other one as he pushed the door further open, brow lowered in a concerned sort of way.

“What? Oh, well, erhm, no, nothing's been canceled...” Bilbo began, but before she could continue, Kili pushed the door all the way open, and the two of them came bounding in before shutting the door with a snap and moving to stand before her, effectively trapping her between a door and themselves. 

“Well, that's a relief, now, isn't it” said Kili, standing very close to her with a cheerful smile as he looked her up and down. Bilbo blushed, and then turned pinker in annoyance at herself. This only made the cheeky dwarf smile more. His blonde brother, Fili, leaned in and dropped a bundle into her nervously flapping arms.

“Be careful with those, I just had them sharpened,” he said in a mockingly serious tone, bent down close enough that Bilbo had to duck out of the way to avoid their heads clonking together! And then they had both turned away, leaving Bilbo pressed tensely against the door, gaping after their fur-and-leather clad forms. 

“Very nice place, this! Did you do it yourself?” asked Kili, almost certainly teasing her.

“No, of course not, my father did, he built it for my mothe- Oh no, now, PLEASE will you stop that, that's my mother's hope chest!” she said, for he had started wiping his thick, muddy boots against the trunk! Then he was suddenly pulled away by Dwalin, who had popped into the front hall at the commotion.

“Evening Fili, Kili. Come and help us a moment,” he said, and Bilbo heard the four of them greeting each other warmly. “Help us move this here table into the hall, or else the rest of us won't hardly fit,” said Dwalin, and his words were followed by scraping, grunting sounds that usually came from men trying to lift a heavy bit of furniture. Bilbo scurried in, nearly getting clunked in the head with her own dining room table!

“The rest of you?!” she shrilled, her voice raising in pitch with her panic. “How many more of you are there supposed to be?!” And seemingly in answer to her question, there was a sharp knock at the door. She spun around wildly, hair wild and eyes murderous.

“No! NO! You go AWAY! You have the WRONG house, there are far too many dwarves here as it is, now GO AWAY and BOTHER SOMEONE ELSE!” she hollered, stomping off to the door and throwing the bundle of weaponry onto the floor by her hat rack. And then she pulled the door open quite hard, resulting in a crowd of dwarves tumbling into her foyer. They lay there in a heap, all shouting and grumbling, and she gave a small shriek of alarm as she leapt away from them. It was then that she saw the figure still outside her door. A tall figure, draped in grey robes, carrying a staff. Gandalf was bending down to peer inside Bag End. He first looked down at the dwarves, and then at the bundle of weapons in the hall, and then tilted his head toward the hall where a table was being kicked into place, and then finally he looked at Bilbo, blue eyes sparkling with amusement at the sight of her. And a sight she was too, yellow skirts askew from being partially landed on, wild curly hair trying to escape the carefully formed bun, eyes bright and face pink from the shock and anger at her predicament. And now those bright eyes narrowed as she looked from the pile of leather, fur and dwarves in front of her to the wizard stooping into her home.

“Gandalf,” she growled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the dwarves had all righted themselves, offered their names and their services to their flustered host, and tromped off to join their comrades at the table in the hall, and after Gandalf had crouched in front of Bilbo and offered his apologies to her for not properly preparing her for the crowd now demanding food and drink from her, Bilbo spun away to her pantry to have a think.
> 
> 'Well,' she thought. 'There's little I can do now except feed the lot of them and then have a strongly worded talk with that troublesome wizard about overstepping his boundaries. Come on now Bilbo, after all, it might be nice, having some company.' And with that thought, she began collecting all manner of foodstuffs from her pantry, eggs, beef, chicken, bread, sausages, potatoes, tomatoes, puddings, and more, and made her way back to the table, to the unlikely group that had descended upon her.
> 
> \--------
> 
> Another chapter done! I don't know how long I'll be able to keep up the chapter-a-day routine, but for now I'm certainly happy to! Thanks again for reading, I hope you enjoy it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party escalates, and a rather haughty leader arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the dwarves had all righted themselves, offered their names and their services to their flustered host, and tromped off to join their comrades at the table in the hall, and after Gandalf had crouched in front of Bilbo and offered his apologies to her for not properly preparing her for the crowd now demanding food and drink from her, Bilbo spun away to her pantry to have a think.  
> 'Well,' she thought. 'There's little I can do now except feed the lot of them and then have a strongly worded talk with that troublesome wizard about overstepping his boundaries. Come on now Bilbo, after all, it might be nice, having some company.' And with that thought, she began collecting all manner of foodstuffs from her pantry, eggs, beef, chicken, bread, sausages, potatoes, tomatoes, puddings, and more, and made her way back to the table, to the unlikely group that had descended upon her.

Bilbo was a very social hobbit. She had been raised that way, brought up in the art of properly attending a party. Arriving at the right time, paying respects to the right people, the best way to quickly make friends around the dance floor, and how to make sure you leave with as much food as you could carry. As such, she had succeeded in bonding with many people, and had been invited to many different kinds of parties. Brunch parties, dinner parties, pub parties, themed parties, dancing parties, all sorts of different parties with all sorts of different hobbits.

 

This was the first party she'd attended that she might describe as “roaring”.

 

The dwarves had sat themselves at her table, and when she'd rounded the corner laden with plates, bowls, and as much food as she could balance on herself, the entire group had given a loud cheer. Startled, the poor little thing nearly dropped everything. But she managed to waddle over to the table, and then began to arrange the food in the nice, typical way. Bowls of things like Brussels sprouts and honey carrots went around in an outside loop, the big long bowls of mashed potato and sweet potatoes cooked in brown sugar went on an inner ring, and then the meats, turkey, chicken and beef, would go in the middle. But as she started trying to arrange everything, a pair of hands grabbed her around the waist. She let out a whoop of surprise as she was spun up into the air, only to be plunked down further away from the table. Bilbo frowned and straightened her skirt as she glared at Kili's back, and then tried to get back to the table. But the dwarves had ignored proper dinner party procedure, and basically just piled everything in the middle of the table. Bilbo thought about protesting, but found she couldn't even raise her voice to be heard over the din. So she set her shoulders and stomped back to the pantry.

 

She returned a minute later with various mugs and tankards hanging from her apron strings, tucked into pockets, even one hanging down from the neckline of her pretty yellow dress. She was rolling a small cask of ale up from her cellar, pushing and huffing and feeling rather annoyed. Even more annoyed than earlier, because now someone gave a shout of “MORE BEER!” and the other dwarves began yelling and chanting. Bilbo made a rather unhobbity noise and kept rolling along the cask toward the bothersome dwarves. They all cheered and applauded when they saw her small body peeking up over the top of the cask. Suddenly she was being lifted up out of the way again, this time by a grinning dwarf with a floppy leather hat on his head. He spun her out of the way, and then, to Bilbo's outrage, swatted cheekily at her bum.

 

“'ere you go lass, we'll take it from here!” he said with a wink, and the table roared with laughter. Bilbo glared at the lot of them, and began slamming all her cups onto the table. Then she stalked off to the pantry to get some supper of her own. She stopped in front of her pantry, mouth gasping open and shut like a startled fish. While she'd struggled with the beer, the dwarves had gone to her pantry and helped themselves to most of the rest of her food. She could see a small plate of butter, a package of uncooked bacon, and a couple round loaves of bread. There wasn't much else left. As though sensing her distress, Gandalf suddenly appeared at Bilbo's side, lowering himself so he could look her in the eye.

 

“Now worry not, little hobbit,” he said in a tone that was probably meant to be comforting. “Dwarves have a habit of taking more food than they need, and then returning what they don't finish.”

 

“Oh, so you mean I shouldn't grumble about these confounded dwarves stomping all through my lovely home, without my invitation, and taking all my food, because I may have a few gnawed-on rounds of cheese to look forward to when they've gone? Yes, THANK you, Gandalf, I do feel much better now!” she exclaimed, caught between not wanting the dwarves to hear her complaints, and also wanting to shriek at them all till they left in fear of her rage. The wizard placed a hand easily half the size of her entire self on her little shoulder.”They are a merry bunch, Bilbo, and are feeling celebratory! They haven't had a gathering such as this in a very long time,” he murmered. She felt a bit humbled for a moment at the thought of going a very long time without a good dinner party, but then as she stepped out into the hall, she caught sight of Fili walking across the table and the rage bubbled back up inside of her.

 

“Oh yes, very merry lot, very merrily celebrating all over my lovely table!” she exclaimed. “Oh, _blast_ these dwarves! Confusticate and bebother them all,” said Bilbo, stomping her foot. And she whirled on Gandalf, shouting, “And blast you too, for bringing to celebrate in my home!”, quite forgetting that he was a wizard and so much bigger than herself. Thankfully, he seemed to forget it as well, and looked rather worried by the anger being directed at her. She was pacing now, arms waving around her head. “They could've gone to the Green Dragon, where there's more than enough room, and food, and drink! You could have taken them to Bree, where there are, I understand, heaps of pubs and tap-houses! But no, _no,_ much better to bring them to Bilbo's, not like she'll be busy with any plans of her own, I'm sure she'd _love-_ ” Bilbo stopped mid-explosion. Partly because it occurred to her, with a nasty little sting, that she most decidedly had not any plans for the evening, nor anyone to make plans with, and also because a dwarf had just popped up in her warpath. His sweet little face had a wide smile on it, which faded to a worried little frown as he caught sight of his pink, furious hostess and tall, cowering wizard. He retreated half a step, ready to flee if need be. Bilbo looked at him, a shy looking dwarf with big, expressive eyes, and felt a little shamed by her raging.

 

“I- I'm sorry to interrupt,” he began, as Bilbo tried to remember his name. “But what should I do with my plate?” Fili was suddenly behind her, and took the plate from him. “Here Ori, give it to me,” he said, a glint of some sort of trouble in his eye. And then, quite without warning, he had thrown the plate quite hard down the hall! Bilbo jumped, eyes wide, quite upset all over again, even though Kili had caught it easily. But now he was throwing it into the kitchen! Then, all at once, all her lovely plates and bowls were flying past her head!  
  
“HEY!” she shrieked and made to grab one, but Fili had spun her over to her own dining table, out of the line of fire. But the assault on her table settings was continuing there too, for the dwarves that were still seated were pounding her cutlery against her table as they stomped their feet, in a bizarrely rhythmic way.

 

“Oi, stop that at once, you'll- You'll blunt them!” Bilbo exclaimed, wrestling a spoon away from a very fat dwarf.

 

“Oh, do you hear that lads?” came a cheeky, mocking voice. Bilbo turned and caught sight of a familiar looking hat. “She says we'll blunt the knives!” And to Bilbo's increasing rage, they all laughed at her! She hadn't much time to splutter angrily in search of a response, because suddenly all the dwarves were singing. They all appeared to be singing about abusing her dishes! Intentionally doing things that she would hate! But she didn't have time to dwell on that either, or even to try to understand the lyrics to the ridiculous song, because all the dwarves were standing now, and producing fiddles and pipes and a drum, which they all started to play along. And before she could try to deal with _that_ , the dwarf with the hat on his head had slung an arm around her waist, taken one of her hands in his, and started galloping around the hall with her. She was suddenly the victim of an impromptu jig! As she stared up into his laughing, singing face, he spun her quite hard, and then she was in the arms of a different dwarf, one whose hair was arranged into three triangles. He lifted her off her feet, and spun her around until the poor little lass was quite sure she'd be flung off into the ceiling. But he put her down again, and spun her into the arms of a large dwarf with a lot of wild, ginger hair. This one didn't seem to know how to dance very well, but he was very good at throwing her back and forth between his arms while stomping his feet in tune to their song. Then the sweet-faced little dwarf from moments ago was behind her, had a hand at her waist, and was galloping the pair of them toward her kitchen. Then Fili had taken a-hold of her. He wasn't singing, he was just laughing as he put both hands on her waist, drawing her far to close to him, and dancing them around in a merry little circle. She could see the rest of the dwarves all gathering around the opening to the kitchen to watch the way she was passed off around them, and then Kili grabbed her. He grabbed her quite hard at the hips, making her squeak and swat at him, but he just spun her around, and then linked an arm in hers and began galloping around her in a circle, dragging her around in circles by one arm. Then he loosened his grip, grabbing one of her hands, and twirling her so vigorously that Bilbo was quite sure her skirts were acting very scandalously beneath her. Then he grabbed her waist again, stopping her, and the song ended with a burst of laughter. Bilbo stumbled dizzily, grabbing at Kili and the Balin, who had popped up at her elbow, trying to steady herself. She found that they had all ended up in her kitchen where, to her dismay, all of her dishes had been thoroughly cleaned, and carefully piled up, the knives, forks and spoons organized quite nicely beside them. All the dwarves were really roaring with laughter now, and she felt quite overwhelmed by in. She thought she heard a cry of “...THE LOOK ON HER FACE...”, though she couldn't tell who had said it.

 

And then, suddenly, everyone stilled. One minute there was raucous laughter, and the next, all the dwarves stopped, faces growing more serious. The only sound left in the whole place was her heavy breathing, and something that sounded a lot like a heavy knock at her door. She looked at Gandalf, eyes both questioning and accusing, and he nodded, face looking solemn, but eyes still twinkling merrily at some quiet joke in his head.

 

“He is here,” he grumbled. Bilbo made for the door, rather dreading what was out on her stoop now, but Gandalf reached it first, pulling it open and blocking her view all at once. She heard a deep voice rumbling in front of the wizard and hesitated, only to look around, finding herself surrounded by dwarves, all of whom had taken rather shocking liberties, and so she strode forward if only to distance herself from them. She stopped to take in this new guest.

 

It was a dwarf, going by his height and his furs. He was probably the tallest of the dwarves currently in her home, at least as tall as Dwalin. He had a strong, handsome looking face, with a straight nose, hard cheekbones, and well-tended facial hair. In fact she was rather thrown looking at him, for she had grown to associate dwarves with long, bushy beards, like the ones in her hall. Well, the ones who were old enough to have such majestic beards. But this newcomer had a short, well trimmed beard and mustache, though he was certainly older than Fili and Kili. Not that it did much to take away from his majestic air, mind. He had a head of long, thick black hair that had fine lines of silver running through it, and two, thick braids that stemmed from his temples, coming to rest on his broad chest. A broad chest that was sporting armor, leather, and a great, heavy full mantle. Around his waist there was a positively huge belt, with a great big buckle. From there a pair of thick trousers, and a pair of large, heavy looking boots. One hand was resting on the hilt of a sword that jutted out by his hip. There were big, fat rings on his fingers. He looked solid, and dangerous. Which stood at contrast with the smooth, deep voice that rumbled from him.

 

“I lost my way, twice. I may never have found the place if it weren't for that mark on the door,” he was saying. Bilbo frowned at that.

 

“Mark? There's no mark on the door, I just had it painted last week!” she said, going to inspect her door, only to have a huge hand gently turn her around and guide her back into the center of the room.

 

“Of course there's a mark, I put it there myself,” said Gandalf matter-of-factly. Bilbo grumbled a little and glared at him from under her eyelashes. And then she was being nudged gently toward the dark newcomer, despite the way she dug her heels into the floor. “Bilbo, it is my pleasure to introduce you to the most esteemed head of our company, Thorin Oakenshield.” Bilbo looked up at the tall, proud looking dwarf, and bobbed a short curtsy. Up this close, she could more clearly see the silver beads holding his thick braids, his dark, heavy brows, and his eyes. His eyes were a deeper blue than Bilbo could ever remember seeing, and they looked rather cold. Unfriendly. Rather like they were assessing, and not being pleased with what they saw. She averted her eyes, focusing instead on his armor. He gave a short, humourless laugh, and began walking around her, studying her in a way that made her very uncomfortable indeed.

 

“So this is our hobbit,” he said. She looked up at him as he passed her. “Well then Miss Baggins, do tell us, what is your weapon of choice?” he asked. She looked up at him sharply, mouth dropping open. She was annoyed to see a rather mocking glint in his eye. “Axe? Sword? A bow and some arrows, perhaps?” Well, Bilbo found herself getting quite annoyed at this haughty dwarf. It didn't help that a couple of the other dwarves were chuckling as well. “I once knocked my cousin unconscious with a flower pot, I'll have you know,” she replied, trying to sound equally as haughty and impressive. He snorted derisively at that, coming full circle and looking at his company.

 

“I rather thought so,” said he. “She looks more like a gardener than a burglar.” The other dwarves laughed, and the entire group retreated back to the table, one of the dwarves wandering back to the pantry to make a plate of supper for his leader. The leader in question looked back at Bilbo with a condescending look on his face, as though Bilbo was some common bit of muck. She glared hard back at him, ignoring the reassuring pat Gandalf gave her in favour of trying to stare down the back of Thorin's head. 'What an absolute prat,' she thought viciously. And she stomped after the lot of them, resentment burning in the back of her throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few minutes later found Bilbo bringing a large mug of ale to Thorin, who sat at the head of her table, surrounded by the other dwarves who were all gazing at him expectantly. There was a plate of food in front of him, almost overflowing with beef, tomatoes, potatoes, pickles, and a good selection of strawberries from her garden. He picked one up and plopped it fully into his mouth, stem and all. He chewed thoughtfully, and then dug in to her food, without so much as a 'Oh, that's lovely,' or a 'Thank you so much for your kind offerings of food and drink, Mistress Baggins,' or even an offering of his services, which seemed to be the typical respectful greeting that dwarves offered. Bilbo brought down the mug hard enough that some of the beer sloshed over the side, splattering on his fine leather arm piece. He aimed a stern glance at her, that seemed both annoyed by her and pleased at her own annoyance. Bilbo gave him a sharp smile. 'I really don't like him, not one bit,' she thought crossly, and then stalked off to find a chair for herself.
> 
> \--------
> 
> Another chapter! At last, all the dwarves are in. Thank you for the kind words and for continuing to read! All comments and critiques are accepted and encouraged, and I'll see you at the next chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A contract is produced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few minutes later found Bilbo bringing a large mug of ale to Thorin, who sat at the head of her table, surrounded by the other dwarves who were all gazing at him expectantly. There was a plate of food in front of him, almost overflowing with beef, tomatoes, potatoes, pickles, and a good selection of strawberries from her garden. He picked one up and plopped it fully into his mouth, stem and all. He chewed thoughtfully, and then dug in to her food, without so much as a 'Oh, that's lovely,' or a 'Thank you so much for your kind offerings of food and drink, Mistress Baggins,' or even an offering of his services, which seemed to be the typical respectful greeting that dwarves offered. Bilbo brought down the mug hard enough that some of the beer sloshed over the side, splattering on his fine leather arm piece. He aimed a stern glance at her, that seemed both annoyed by her and pleased at her own annoyance. Bilbo gave him a sharp smile. 'I really don't like him, not one bit,' she thought crossly, and then stalked off to find a chair for herself.

This next stretch of the continuing suppertime had a much different feel to it. On a typical day, Bilbo might have been quite interested in learning further about the eating tendencies of dwarves, and the different customs concerning meal-times. As it was though, she was sitting on her smallest stool, squashed uncomfortably beside Gandalf near the head of the table, watching a group of big, sweaty males eating while her tummy rumbled grumpily, having what was shaping up to be the most awkward Wednesday of her life. Not even her aggravated huffing and puffing was enough to draw the dwarves' attention to her anymore, and Balin had stopped shooting her apologetic glances well over an hour ago. Now she sat, separated from the group, trying to follow what was being discussed.

 

They were quite seriously focused on that adventure Gandalf had been talking about the day before. It seemed Thorin had come from a meeting with some other dwarf-y battle-y type, asking for help, which had been denied.

 

“Dain said, this quest is ours. And it will be ours alone,” Thorin was saying. Well, Bilbo made a decision. If she was going to entertain a load of dwarves, she was at least going to have an understanding of what was being discussed.

 

“You're going on a quest?” she asked, sitting up a little straighter. A few of the dwarves glanced at her. Most seemed to have forgotten she was there. Gandalf leaned down toward her.

 

“My dear Bilbo,” said he. “I wonder if we might have a little more light.” She nodded and popped to her feet, leaving to turn up her lamps, keeping an ear on the conversation at the table. There was a lot of scraping of chairs as dwarves huddled around the wizard, it seemed he'd pulled out a scrap of parchment. Stepping back into the huddle with a fat yellow candle for good measure, Bilbo saw that it was a map. A rather beautiful one at that. Bilbo had always been rather fond of maps, thinking it was quite sensible to have a good sense of where you were at all times. That, and they were usually quite pretty, and it was rather lovely to be able to imagine different places. She had spent many a fine afternoon in her youth sitting on a hill on a warm day with a map, trying to imagine the paths all stretching out in front of her. The main feature of this particular map seemed to be a rather large mountain, with a dragon drawn in red ink on top of it. Bilbo peered at it.  
  


“The Lonely Mountain,” she read aloud.

 

“Aye,” said the big ginger dwarf (Bilbo was fairly certain that this was either Oin or Gloin). “Oin has read the portents,” (Gloin, then.) “and the portents say it is time!” Gandalf sat back a little, lighting a pipe. He offered it to Bilbo and she took a wee puff. Now the other one, Oin, was speaking.

 

“Ravens have been returning to the mountain, just as it was foretold,” he said. This meant nothing Bilbo, but a few of the dwarves seemed to perk up at it. “'As the beasts of old return to Erebor, the reign of the creature will end,'” he proclaimed in a deep, important sounding voice. Bilbo frowned as she listened.

 

“Ehm, what creature is that?” she asked. The dwarf in the hat (Bofur, she thought. Bilbo thought it was really rather unfortunate, the lack of range in dwarf names. Bifur, Bofur... Where were all the Toms and Geoffreys?) lifted his head to catch her eye.

 

“Well, that would be referencin' Smaug The Terrible, the greatest calamity of our time,” he offered matter-of-factly. “He's a dragon, see, old Smaug. Huge, wicked ol' beast. Teeth like great daggers, he's got. Claws sharper than axes. Wingspan as big as your little town here, I'd be willing to bet! Breathes fire, loves to eat up sweet, pretty lasses for dinner-”

 

“Yes, I know what a dragon is!” Bilbo exclaimed in a shrill voice, cutting him off. It may have been rude, but his descriptions were making her quite nervous. Down toward the end of the table, Ori popped to his feet.

 

“I'm not afraid,” he declared, though the little squeak in his voice made him less than convincing. “I'm ready for him! I'll give him a taste of dwarf-ish iron, right up his jacksie!” Bilbo was rather taken aback at his language, but the dwarves seemed pleased by his declaration, giving him a little cheer. Well, some at least. His older brother who was beside him grabbed him by the back of his shirt and yanked him back into his seat, muttering to him and giving him a stern look while he patted his hair back into place.

 

“Yes, well, I must say I'd like to see you try,” said Balin in a stern voice, though he looked on Ori with affection. “Ours would be hard enough task, even with an army behind us! As it is, we are but thirteen. And not thirteen strong fighters either, a group of miners and toy-makers!” There were a few offended little grumbles from around the table.

 

“There are warriors among us,” said Thorin.

 

“Aye, there are. Old warriors,” conceded Balin, though he didn't look much comforted by it.

 

“We may be a small group, there's no argument to that, but we are a group of fighters! Each of us! And each prepared to fight til the last dwarf,” said Fili, sounding quite proud indeed.

 

“And we've got a wizard!” said Kili, slapping his hand on the table. “I bet Gandalf had taken down dozens of dragons on his own, and here he's got a fair little army backing him up! Isn't that right, Gandalf?” At this, Gandalf shifted. Bilbo looked up and saw that it was he, now, who looked somewhat uncomfortable. Fili thumped his younger brother on the back and nodded, then looked to the wizard.

 

“Well, now, I wouldn't, that is to say I-” said Gandalf, only to be interrupted.

 

“How many, then?” asked Dori, the oldest of the brothers Ri, who had been drinking tea almost exclusively, and taking care not to spill food into his fine braids.

 

“What was that?” asked Gandalf.

 

“Exactly how many dragons have you killed?” At that, everyone turned to look at Gandalf, who responded by drawing deeply from the end of his pipe. As the dwarves all began muttering and pestering, Gandalf started to cough, small, nervous smoke rings puffing out from between his teeth, and Bilbo gave him a small pat on the back. Everyone got the idea well enough: Gandalf had never killed a dragon. Well, at that, the mutterings around the table escalated in volume, each of the dwarves trying to shout something over the sound of his neighbour, all of them sounding a little frantic. Bilbo just kept on patting Gandalf's back, cringing as Dwalin stood up to yell something at Gloin, and Nori slammed a fist on the table as he shouted something at Kili. Suddenly, Thorin stood up and roared something in what Bilbo assumed to be dwarvish, and all the dwarves shut up quite nicely, turning to look at him. He glared around the table at them, and then began to speak.

 

“As we sit here interpreting signs, do you think for a moment that we are alone in our line of thinking? The dragon hasn't been spotted for over sixty years, and all eyes now turn East to Erebor, wondering, assessing. Weighing the risk. It is possible now that the great treasure of our ancestors sit unguarded under the mountain. Do we sit back and watch as others claim what is rightfully ours? Or, do we seize this chance to take back Erebor?” The end of his speech was met with cries and oaths, shouts in dwarvish, and Bilbo blinked as she realized that even she had given a little shout in response! But Balin was shaking his head.

 

“You forget, the gates are shut tight! There is no way into the mountain,” he said. The dwarves all hushed at that, and even Thorin looked a touch discouraged.

 

“That, my dear Balin, is not quite true,” said Gandalf, coming forward again. In his hand, he held a key. Bilbo peered up as he held it over her head. It was a thick, heavy looking thing, made of iron. She frowned as she looked at it, most of the other dwarves shared in her look of confusion. But Thorin's lips parted in surprised, and he leaned toward the wizard, staring at the key, a hard, possessive gleam in his eye.

 

“How did you come by this?” he murmured.

 

“It was given to me by your father, Thrain,” said Gandalf. Once again, Bilbo felt rather lost, while the rest of the dwarves began whispering, looked a little slack-jawed with awe. “He meant for me to pass it on to you, when the time was right. I apologize for having held it so long, though in my own defense it has been a daunting task trying to find you,” he added, handing the key to Thorin, who took it as though being handed a crown, or a pile of jewels, or a particularly exquisite pastry.

 

“The key, what does it open?” asked Bilbo, leaning forward to look at the key. Thorin looked up at her as though he was only just registering her presence, and for a moment, their eyes met. But then Gandalf was sliding the map toward her so she could see it, and the moment passed. He pointed to a small group of markings in the corner.

 

“These runes make mention of a hidden passage, a doorway into the lower tunnels of the mountain.”

 

“There's another way in,” said Kili, sounding excited.

 

“Well there is, yes. If we can find it,” said Gandalf. “But as you well know, dwarf doors are invisible as long as they're closed. But there is a way, and I am certain that it is written here in this map!” He gave a little huff. “Unfortunately, I have not got the skills to find it. However, there are others in Middle Earth who will be able to.” He shared a look with Thorin. “The task I have in mind will require stealth, cunning, and no small amount of bravery.” At that, he looked at Bilbo, and she stared back blankly. “It will be dangerous, certainly. But if we succeed, the reward will be much grander than any of you truly know. If we can manage to be careful, and clever, I believe it can be done.”

 

“That's why we need a burglar,” said Ori. He seemed to be looking at her expectantly, Bilbo thought, and realized that they were probably looking for confirmation that she understood why they were all meeting. She nodded, looking back at the map.

 

“Oh yes, I'd say so. Probably a very good one at that, for the quest you're all on about. An expert in the field, that sort of thing,” she said, still nodding.

 

“And are you?” said Gloin. She looked up and around the table, curious to see who they had planned for the job, for she'd missed who Gloin had addressed. To her surprise, they were all looked over at her. So she looked behind her, frowning. Nobody there. She turned back to face the table, frowning, fairly certain she was missing something.

 

“I beg your pardon?” she asked, a beginning of an awful suspicion blooming in her mind.

 

“Eh, she said she's an expert!” said Oin, with a happy little cheer. The rest of the dwarves were looking at her rather fixedly now, some of them smiling quite cheerily. The awful suspicion grew, and her eyes widened. Bilbo found herself standing suddenly, and backing away from the table.

 

“What, you mean _me_? No, oh no no no, there's been some sort of misunderstanding here!” she squeaked, looking to Gandalf to back her up. The coward was avoiding eye contact, fiddling with his pipe! She glared at him, calling him all sorts of nasty things in her head. “I am not a burglar, thank you very much indeed! I've never stolen a thing in my entire life! Well, no, I suppose that isn't true, I took stole some mushrooms from Marmadas Brandybuck once, but he found me out immediately!”

 

“I'm afraid Mistress Baggins is right,” said Balin. “She doesn't quite seem burglar material.” His words were met with a number of grumblings. A couple, Fili and Ori, were muttering that they weren't so sure she was entirely unsuitable, after all, she was very soft on her feet. But for the most part, they all agreed with Balin, Dwalin loudest of all.

 

“There, y'see, she said so herself! Absolutely unsuitable, you'd have better luck passing her off as an elf than you would a burglar!” he was saying, and while Bilbo agreed that she had no real experience or skills as a thief, she found herself frowning at his tone. “I mean, look at her! Wee, fleshy, round little thing. Stick her in that mountain, she'd probably roll right into Smaug's great ugly chomper, and then tell him exactly who had lead her to him! Ha! She's been nothing but grumbles all night long, and you want to bring her along? Lead her into battle? You'd have better luck with a mossy stone as a companion.”

 

Well! Dwalin had been quiet and to himself all the night long, and this was what he chose to speak up with? Bilbo felt quite heated, and opened her mouth to defend herself, when Thorin spoke up.

 

“Well, now, I wouldn't go as far as that, but I am in agreement. She'd be a terrible burglar, more likely to slow us down than anything. She had no place in our number.”

 

Bilbo was positively hopping now. The rest of the dwarves were starting to agree with the two great brutes, when she picked up a heavy tankard and slammed it down loudly on the table. They all turned to look at her, Ori jumping a little.

 

“Now, all you dwarves, look here! I may not have experience in the field of burglaring, but I can tell you all that I'd be a sight better than any of you! With your stomping and your tromping, and your great, ugly shouting! I'd like to see any of you try to be anywhere near as quiet or stealthy as a hobbit, you, you bunch of knobs!” Here, she picked up a spoon and pointed it wildly at Dwalin. “And you! Complaining about _my_ attitude? When you've sat there with a snarl on your face half the night, eating all my food, ruining my doilies? I'd like to see your attitude when facing a home full of complete strangers, destroying  _your_ plumbing, with all the manners of a group of drunken sheep!” She spun around on Thorin, who looked a little startled in spite of himself. “And you! You're worse than him, coming into my home, calling me a gardener, insulting me? Taking advantage of my hospitality without so much as an 'as it please you'! Sneering around at everyone as though you're so much better? Well, let me tell you something, _Master Dwarf_! You would be damned lucky to have me on your ruddy old venture! And what's more, you can take your damnable superiority and- And- And stick it up your jacksie!” she finished with a shout, pointing at Ori as she used his term, and throwing the spoon on the table. With that, she plopped back onto her stool with her arms crossed, seething.

 

The dwarves were all silent. It was the quietest her home had been all night. They were staring at her, mouths open, with expressions ranging from outrage to a bemused sort of respect. Thorin was staring at her intensely, looking quite angry, and rather as though he was trying to tear off her limbs with his mind. For all their emotions though, none of them seemed quite sure what to say. Gandalf was looking downright pleased with her little explosion, and clapped a hand on her back than nearly sent her flying onto the table.

 

“Well done, Bilbo!” he said, and then turned his attention to the dwarves. “And all of you, casting judgments. How many of you have gone off in battle in the past? How many of you are qualified for a quest such as this?” They looked away, some brooding, some looking a touch ashamed. “If I say that Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar she is. As she has pointed out, hobbits are remarkably light on their feet, and with her small frame, she'd easily be able to sneak into small spaces that few of you fit your heads in! Not only that, the dragon Smaug has grown used to the smell of dwarf, but the smell of hobbit would be quite new to him, which gives us a distinct advantage.” He looked to Thorin, who was starting to look as though he saw the angle of Gandalf's logic. “You asked me to find a fourteenth member for this company, and I have chosen Miss Baggins. There is a lot more to her than appearances suggest. She's got a lot more to her than any of you know! Herself included,” he added, and aimed a small wink at her, which she ignored, still perturbed, and now a touch apprehensive, for it seemed she had volunteered for the trip after all. Demanded it, even. Gandalf leaned in toward Thorin, speaking low. “You must trust me on this. For all your sakes.” he said. Thorin stared hard at him for a moment.

 

“Very well,” he said reluctantly. “We'll do it your way.” He looked at Bilbo for a moment, and his eyes were cold and unfriendly. “Give her a contract.”

 

Bilbo straightened, anger fading a little, and nervousness rising again. She looked at the dwarves across from her. Bofur caught her eye, and he winked at her, looking amused at her worried expression. Gloin was turned to face his brother, shouting Thorin's decision into Oin's ear trumpet. Balin stood, and pulled a thick, much-folded sheet of parchment from his robes. He held it to her, brows raised, as though offering a silent challenge. She looked at him, then at Thorin, who was staring at her as though he wanted to kick her out of her own home, and snatched the contract out of the old dwarf's hands. Balin nodded, as though pleased with her, and passed her a large pen.

 

“It's just the usual, a summary about pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, that sort of thing.” He said. She stared at him. Funeral arrangements? She stood and walked away from the table, ignoring the muttering of the company, and not hearing the quiet conference Gandalf and Thorin were engaged in, opening the large contract and muttering to herself.

 

“Alright, what do we have here, then. Okay, 'terms; cash on delivery, up to but not exceeding one fourteenth of total profit, if any', that seems fair enough. Uh, 'present company will not be liable for any injuries inflicted by and/or sustained as a consequence thereof, including (but not limited to)... Lacerations?” she squeaked a little on the last word. The list of included injuries expanded further, getting almost an entire page to itself. Some were words she had no idea the meaning of! “Evisceration, brackets, disembowelment?” She frowned, skimming the list. “Incineration?!” She squawked, loudly enough that the rest of the company heard her.

 

“Oh, aye!” Said Bofur, and Bilbo spun around to look at him. “That's Smaug for you, he'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye!” He said this as though it was no worry at all, while Bilbo found that vaguely uncomfortable feeling growing into a dizziness in her head. She swallowed, and made a soft noise that sounded a bit like, “...ah, esofcouse, es, um...” They were all staring at her again. All except Gandalf, who was looking sternly at Bofur. Dwalin and Thorin stood near each other, staring hard at her, both with their arms folded. Fili and Kili were looking amused at her distress, the cheeky blighters.

 

“You alright there, lass?” Balin asked her gently. She nodded vigorously, determined to stay strong, even though her mouth was dry and she could feel the colour leaving her face.

 

“Yes!” she squeaked, and then cleared her throat. “Yes, fine, I just- Just need a bit of air, that's all.” She put a hand on her waist, the other fanning herself with the contract.

 

“Picture a great big furnace, with wings,” said Bofur, standing and coming a little closer to her. His voice seemed incredibly loud, and she fanned herself harder, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. “A bright flash of fire, an incredible searing pain, and then before you can even scream 'Help lads, I'm on fire!', you'll be naught more than a wee little pile of ash!” he said, sounding almost cheerful about it! Bilbo put her hands on her knees, bending at the waist and trying to draw in some air. She was aware of Gandalf gazing at her with concern now, and nodded, flapping a hand at him to show she was okay. She even thought she was dealing with things rather well, and straightened, feeling almost a little brave. But then a little image of a great, red dragon chewing on a bit of her corpse, while Lobelia Sackville-Baggins sliced him another portion of her with her own carving knife, and Bilbo gave a little whimper and fell to the floor in a dead faint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo came around to the sound of the dwarves howling with laughter a moment later, Gandalf kneeling over her, and fanning her with a large hand. 
> 
> "Oh, very well done, Bofur, that was very helpful indeed," he was saying, sounding quite irritated. "Are you alright there, Bilbo?" he asked her, concerned. She found she couldn't speak, her mouth dry and her throat scratchy. So the wizard picked her up carefully, took her to the sitting room, and deposited her in her chair by the fire. Dori popped up by Gandalf's elbow, holding her own teapot and teacup, though given that he was pouring her a cup she couldn't really bring herself to be annoyed at it. She nodded at him gratefully and took a large gulp of it, ignoring the way it burned her throat. Then Bifur, the hairy, frightening looking dwarf with part of an axe sticking out of his forehead, came over with one of her blankets, throwing it over her. He nudged her hard, and said something loudly in dwarvish, to which she shrugged and said, "I suppose so," without any idea of what he'd just said. It seemed to please him though, for he nodded sharply, then turned and tromped back to the table to join in with the rest of the company, who were talking loudly again, many of them peeking over at her with looks that ranged from amusement to disdain. Thorin and Dwalin were looking rather like they already regretted the choice to bring her along. She couldn't help but to share in their regret, shaking her head as she stared into the fire.
> 
> 'Oh Bilbo, you fool,' she thought. 'What have you gotten yourself into now?"
> 
> \--------
> 
> I think this has been my longest chapter yet! I hope you like it, and I'll see you again at the next chapter. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo makes her decision.

Bilbo sat in her chair, unmoving, for a good half hour. During that time, she sipped occasionally at her tea, and stared blankly into her cozy fire as she listened to the conversations going on around her dining table. Now that the dwarves had outlined their plan, which seemed to be to travel to the Lonely Mountain, try to find an invisible door, and then pop their heads in to see if the dragon who'd stolen their home and killed their families was still alive in there, they seemed ready to sit down and get further into detail. Someone was trying to describe a potentially faster path that would take them to the mountain, someone else was discussing a battle formation he'd been a part of once (it sounded as though it had been bloody, but very successful), a few were debating what weapon was best used against orcs, and someone, off in the corner, was describing how he'd once wooed a human woman to an enraptured Ori. She supposed it was Ori anyway, because another voice kept saying things like “Ori, cover your ears” while another voice huffed responses such as “I shan't, I'm not a child, you- you _fusspot_!” It was the most overwhelming cacophony that Bilbo'd ever had to listen to. After a while, Gandalf came into the room, looking a bit cross, to raise his eyebrows at her. She looked up at him trying to look delicate and weak. He frowned, as if to say he didn't buy it one little bit, and would appreciate it if she'd get up and go join the crowd, thank you very much indeed. She huffed irritatedly.

 

“I just need to sit a minute longer, catch my breath,” she grumbled.

 

“You've been sitting for far too long!” said Gandalf, and he did sound rather cross with her. She gave him a little glare, and now he was huffing, though his face relaxed into a look of affection. “My dear Bilbo, you were doing so well in there. I dare say the tale of how one little hobbit scolded a group of burly old dwarves till they blushed with shame will soon become legend. But tell me, my dear Bilbo. When did doilies and plumbing and the state of the carpet become such heavy areas of concern to you?” He leaned against the fireplace, studying her as he packed his pipe. He pointed it at her, almost rather accusingly. “I remember a tiny little faunt who once ran into the tall grasses one fine summer evening, and didn't return till half past noon the next day! Came tramping in, covered in mud and bits of leaves, wearing a wreath of flowers, and declaring that you were the elf queen, come from the South!” Bilbo snorted, shaking her head. “I remember it well,” she said. “My old man coughing and spluttering til he turned purple, and me standing there, wailing and crying that my people needed me back at court... Mum just kept laughing, though I must say, she didn't let me out of her sight for nearly a month after.” Bilbo sighed, gently rubbing the chain of her mother's worn old locket which hung down the front of her dress, nestled between her bosoms, one of the few of Belladonna Baggins' possessions that she'd kept over the years. “I remember being quite worried that I'd be under house arrest for the rest of forever.” She smiled fondly at the memory. Gandalf chuckled.

 

“Yes, I do remember having tea with your mother with you stomping around, insisting that she couldn't keep you locked in forever. And then you went ahead and proved it to her, you little stowaway.” Bilbo smiled cheekily, and the two of them laughed quietly at the memory.

 

It had been Gandalf's last day in The Shire, he was headed North for some adventure or another. Bilbo had listened in on him discussing plans with her mother. She'd tied a loaf of bread and a tomato to her waist with one of Belladonna's best scarves, wriggled out the unguarded kitchen window, and hid herself in the back of Gandalf's little wagon. He'd nearly gone all the way out of Hobbiton before he happened to look back and catch sight of her, tomato juice dribbling down her chin, and holding tight to a small felt rabbit, which she declared was her mascot. Gandalf had chuckled all the way back to Bag End, though neither of her parents thought it the least bit funny. Gandalf was still chuckling about it, even now, and he passed her his pipe for a puff. Thinking back, Bilbo supposed her first taste of pipe weed had come from the end of that pipe. She smiled fondly at the wizard, and he patted her on the head. “That is precisely what I mean! You used to run off into the woods all on your own, looking for elves, or dragons, or giants, and giving all the proper hobbits quite a shock. One might even say you were completely wild in those days.” He gave a hard little sigh. “Whatever happened to you, my dear little friend?”

 

Bilbo sighed as well, because for all she remembered her adventuring little self fondly, she found herself rather regretting all the stains she left on the carpets back then, all the paintings and pretty hair ribbons and frocks she destroyed with her rowdiness. “I grew up, Gandalf. I am much too old for that childish piffle now. I cannot go running off on an adventure, I am a Baggins of Bag End!” She said this rather firmly, nodded her head, and settled down further into her comfortable chair. “Yes, yes, you are a Baggins,” conceded Gandalf. “But you are also a _Took_!” He said, and she rolled her eyes with a groan. “Did you know that one of your great ancestors, Bullroarer Took, was so large that he could ride a real horse?” Bilbo nodded exasperatedly, it was one of her favourite stories when she was a tot. “Well, he could!” Gandalf insisted. “And he took part of his fair share of adventures! Once, in battle, he himself lead the charge on a goblin army, and he swung his club so mightily, that it took the head of the Goblin King clean off! It sailed over a hundred yards, and went down a rabbit hole. And so the battle was won! And the game of golf invented at the same time.” Bilbo looked at him with a wry little smile. “Gandalf, I do believe you made that up.” He shrugged. “Even the greatest stories deserve a little embellishment.”

 

Gandalf knelt down to bring himself to her level. “I see the same fire in you that I saw in him. That same thirst for excitement. And when you come back, it will be you they tell stories of around the fire.” Bilbo smiled, thinking of mountain ranges and great lakes and all those places that she had read of in her maps. And then she looked over her home with its polished wood, comfortable furniture, and good smells. The smile turned a little sad as she looked back at the wizard. “Can you promise me that I will come back?” she asked quietly. The wizard sighed as he gazed at her, and he suddenly looked very old. “No,” he said. “And if you do, I dare say you'll never be the same again.” She nodded solemnly, and as she took in the sad look in his eyes, she wondered to herself how many friends Gandalf had sent off on adventures, never to see again. Then there was the sound of a rather manic laugh from somewhere behind them, which Bilbo grinned at in spite of herself, and the moment was broken. She shrugged at the wizard. “I thought you'd say that.” And with that, she heaved herself out of the chair, muttered her apologies to everyone, and toddled off to her room, refusing to acknowledge the hard, disappointed looks she received from the company, and completely ignoring the cold stare aimed at her from the leader of the party.

 

It was hours later, and Bilbo could not sleep. She sat on the edge of her bed, swathed in a thick, burgundy robe, knees pulled up to her chest as she thought on the events of the day. She thought of the dwarves stomping around her home, viciously attacking her food stores, and then enthusiastically cleaning up after themselves. Their presence had made her evening completely ridiculous, loud and rowdy. She suspected it was a good indication of how the entire journey would be. She couldn't decide if that was a point for or against the adventure, for she hadn't ruled it out completely. She had the contract sitting at the end of her bed, beside a traveling pack that she had started putting together, just in case. But the thought of a great, monstrous fire-drake still sent great shivers up and down her spine. And the thought of being the only female, and the smallest of the group at that? Bilbo had wondered how often they would all bathe, which brought her to wondering where and _how_ they would bathe, and abandoned the pack to sit in bed, determined that she'd not be taking part in any adventures, no matter how disappointed they'd all seemed.

 

But just as she'd made up her mind, she heard a sound coming from her sitting room. She looked up, and against the wall of the hallway she could see shadows moving in the firelight. The sound, she realized, was a hum. A loud humming. The humming of thirteen dwarves. And then a voice emerged over the deep, throaty sounds. Thorin was singing.

 

The song captivated her entirely. It was dark and mournful, full of such emotion and longing that it made Bilbo's breath catch. All at once, the small, Took child inside of her awoke, and she felt a great longing of her own. A longing to go running through trees, dancing among the fireflies once more. She could see it all before her, dusty trails that wound through long, green fields. Mountains that peaked high above thick clouds, mist that clung to everything. Firelight sparkling and sparking over great piles of gold. Oh, how she wanted to stand atop a mountain, walk through the halls of the elves, battle an entire throng of vicious goblins. And all the while, the dwarves hummed on, their voices rising above the harsh, moaning wind and filling the night with magic. Other voices lifted to join Thorin as he sung of mist and of gold, and she imagined she could hear the great, scaly wings of a dragon flapping over her home. The thought of it inspired such a powerful feeling in her that she nearly sprang up to go sing with them. But she held back, and the overwhelming tide of emotion brought tears to her eyes and a lump to her throat. She fell asleep to the thick, throbbing hum, and it gave her such vivid, wild dreams, that she slept on till well past sun up.

 

Bilbo awoke to sun slanting over her face, and rubbed at her eyes blearily. She listened for the sounds of rumbly, dwarf voices, but heard none. She frowned. She'd shown them were the spare rooms were before she'd retired for the night, had they slept so late? Bilbo crept out of bed, and tip-toed her way through her home, certain she'd stumble over a dwarf eventually. But all she found was a pile of dishes, washed and dried and sitting on her table, which had been moved back to the dining room. She gave a loud call of “Hello?” just to be safe, but she had no need to; the company was gone.

 

Bilbo stood in the middle of her sitting room, brow furrowed. She wasn't sure what she was feeling. They had left without saying goodbye, which was very rude indeed, not that she was really surprised. After all, what if she'd decided to join them? 'Probably better off, really,' said a voice in her mind, but even that sounded uncertain. She sniffed, and then looked around the room. Everything was as it should be, the furniture in the right places, no extra dirt on the carpets. And yet, somehow, it felt... Different. Bigger. Almost a little bit too big. And colder, it felt colder, though she knew the temperature was the same. She frowned. Bag End had always been meant for a large family, it was the reason it had been built. To make room for all the children and grandchildren that Belladonna and Bungo had been sure they'd have. The dwarves had come in, bellowing and ridiculous and overwhelming, but it seemed, somehow, that they'd taken all the warmth and colour with them when they'd left. Bilbo sniffed again, and the voice popped up in her head again. 'There's no point in grumping. After all, you know, you are a very lucky hobbit, with a whole life of exciting, hobbity things to look forward to!' Well, it wasn't the most reassuring thought she could have had. Bilbo headed for the table, where a bowl sat that was still full of (mostly unscathed) strawberries, trying to decide the best breakfast foods to cheer her up, when she noticed a slip of parchment, partially hidden under her dishes. She picked it up, and read the loopy, familiar handwriting.

 

' _Bilbo, as I am writing this, it is half past the hour of nine in the morning on this, the sixth Thursday of the month. The dwarves and I will be heading out of town on the trail that leads to the North. A trail I'm sure you remember well, my dear little stowaway. Remember, my timid friend. The world does not hide away in your multitude of books; it is out there on the horizon. And it is waiting for you. With all the fondness I can manage, I wish you luck. Yours, Gandalf the Grey_ '

 

Bilbo re-read the letter no less than three times. Then she looked up at the clock, which read one quarter past the hour of ten. They'd been gone for less than an hour. And then she looked out her window, which faced South. The sun was bright, although a few fat, fluffy clouds hung in the sky. From where she stood, she could see a few dandelions growing up, wild and yellow, disrupting the pretty purple and blue flowers in her window box. That would need weeding. Not to mention the trip she would need to make to market, which would be quite exciting enough even without a dragon, given all she'd need to buy to make up for what the dwarves had eaten. And she had that pile of mending she needed to do, she had promised Hamfast Gamgee she'd have his trousers fixed up by dinnertime. There was a lot of work to be done. 'Yes,' she thought, nodding to herself. 'The chores won't do themselves.' Her eyes strayed back to the clock.

 

Less than an hour.

 

Bilbo _ran._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She wasted a ridiculous amount of time trying to pack. After a while, she just gave up and dumped a lot of odds and ends in her pack, a book, a couple small maps, a key to Bag End, what remained of the food, a fine, lacy shawl in case it got cool at night, an ancient, thin bedroll that her mother had kept from her own adventuring days. She threw on a plain brown dress, and tied her hair in place with her nicest gold ribbon. Then she pulled on her long red coat, patted the pocket for her dad's old pocket watch, and dug her mum's locket out of her cleavage to give it a kiss for good luck. A moment later, she was out the door and running, past the flustered young mother with her struggling faunts, not even stopping for a cheery "Hallo!" Bilbo found herself marking the places she dashed past in a wistful sort of way; the tree she'd fallen out of and torn a dress because of when she was wee. The Green Dragon, where she'd had her first pint of ale. The little footbridge, where she'd shared her first kiss, rather sloppy kiss with Holfast Proudfoot. The tall grasses she'd disappeared into so many years ago. Bilbo bid a silent goodbye to the life she had known, just as a shout came up behind her. 
> 
> "Mistress Baggins! Where're y'going, lass?"
> 
> "I can't stop! I'm already late!" she cried over her shoulder.
> 
> "Late? Late for what??" Bilbo grinned, and ran around the corner onto the dusty path out of town without another word.
> 
> \--------
> 
> Well, there she goes! Now we get into interesting territory, the adventure itself. I don't know about you, but I'm definitely excited. Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The adventure begins, and Thorin's tale is told.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She wasted a ridiculous amount of time trying to pack. After a while, she just gave up and dumped a lot of odds and ends in her pack, a book, a couple small maps, a key to Bag End, what remained of the food, a fine, lacy shawl in case it got cool at night, an ancient, thin bedroll that her mother had kept from her own adventuring days. She threw on a plain brown dress, and tied her hair in place with her nicest gold ribbon. Then she pulled on her long red coat, patted the pocket for her dad's old pocket watch, and dug her mum's locket out of her cleavage to give it a kiss for good luck. A moment later, she was out the door and running, past the flustered young mother with her struggling faunts, not even stopping for a cheery "Hallo!" Bilbo found herself marking the places she dashed past in a wistful sort of way; the tree she'd fallen out of and torn a dress because of when she was wee. The Green Dragon, where she'd had her first pint of ale. The little footbridge, where she'd shared her first kiss, rather sloppy kiss with Holfast Proudfoot. The tall grasses she'd disappeared into so many years ago. Bilbo bid a silent goodbye to the life she had known, just as a shout came up behind her.
> 
> "Mistress Baggins! Where're y'going, lass?"
> 
> "I can't stop! I'm already late!" she cried over her shoulder.
> 
> "Late? Late for what??" Bilbo grinned, and ran around the corner onto the dusty path out of town without another word.

 Well, it felt as though Bilbo had been running for ages. Her little legs were starting to feel horribly thick and sore, but she pushed on through it, determination giving her strength. She paused only once, at the top of a little hill, to bend at the waist and pant. Then she looked all around herself, trying to get her bearings, when she spotted them, a dark line of dwarf shapes rambling along ahead, with a tall, pointed grey hat serving as the front of the group. Bilbo gave a manic little whoop of joy, and then took a deep breath and bolted, hurtling herself down the hill and towards them. “HEY! WAIT! STOP!” she cried as loudly as a small, breathless hobbit could. She saw Gandalf, way up a head, look around. “WAIT FOR ME!” she bellowed, and at that some heads turned to look back in her direction. She slowed to a stop, almost skidding into the flank of a pony. Bilbo gave a small, mad cackle as she stared down the pony, and then backed up, trying to find her breath again. She knew she looked a sight, all dusty, her hair determined to escape it's knot, and she had dashed through a mud puddle, which had splashed all up her legs. And of course, there was the sweat and the redness of her face. But standing there in front of the dwarves, she found that she didn't really mind all that much. Said dwarves were staring at her curiously, taking in the messy picture she provided, and eying her pack. She scanned the line, searching out a particular face. She found it, in between those of Thorin and Dwalin. Balin had a small, knowing smile on his face, and his eyes twinkled with amusement. The dwarves on either side of him had rather decidedly grumpy looks, which she ignored as she strode up in front of the old dwarf's pony. Too excited to worry about propriety, Bilbo reached up under her bodice, and gave a yank, pulling the contract from its safe spot with a little flourish.

 

“I've signed it, Master Balin!” she exclaimed. “I've signed up for your adventure!” She passed him the contract. He took it, shaking his head with a chuckle as he pulled a pair of spectacles from his pocket. He looked carefully at her hastily scribbled signature, as she looked down the line at the other dwarves. For the most part, they looked befuddled. Nori looked quite disappointed, as did Fili and Bofur. Dwalin looked very cross indeed. But Kili was grinning, Ori gave her a shy little smile, and Gloin looked almost a bit proud. She smiled at those friendly faces, giving them nods of greeting. Then she turned back to Balin, who turned in his saddle to Thorin. “Everything seems to be in order,” he said, holding the contract open so the big grump could see. He looked less than happy, but he nodded nonetheless. Balin turned back to her. “Bilbo Baggins, I'd like to personally welcome you to the company of Thorin Oakenshield!” he declared, and she grinned. She looked up at Gandalf, who was positively beaming at her. She couldn't hold back the happy little laugh that bubbled up in her chest at his expression. However, not too surprisingly, a word from Thorin killed both the laugh and her excited smile, replacing it with a look of dread.

 

“Someone get her on a pony,” he said shortly, and then turned his own back to the trail, bringing it to a brisk walk. Bilbo looked around, and saw the rest of the dwarves urge on their ponies, advancing on her. She frowned at this; she had been mistrusting of all ponies and horses ever since one had thrown her from it's back her first time on the back of one. She began flustering about, and started trying to dissuade them.

 

“A pony? Oh, now, really, I don't think that will be necessary. I've always been a quick walker, you see,” she said, and began clipping along, trying to keep up. Even she could see it was not a pace she'd be able to keep up for very long, but her insisting only got more shrill. “You'd be amazed at all the walking I do, why, I've been on many a walking holiday, and I believe in a brisk afternoon stroll to brighten the mi-whOOP!” Her little argument was cut off as a set of hands grabbed her under the arms, and pulled her up quick, landing her soft bottom quite hard and sideways at the front of a saddle. Fili braced her on either side with his arms, and smiled at her charmingly. “Why Mistress Baggins, there's no need to fret over these gentle creatures! You'll be dealing with much worse than them on this journey.” His smile had a few too many teeth in it, and Bilbo swallowed hard. “N-Now Master Dwarf, I am sure I can find a different pony, there's no need to inconvenience yourself-” she stammered, and he gave a little laugh. “No inconvenience at all! Tell you what, though, if you worry about putting me out, Kili'll take you after the next rest stop.” His brother laughed and wiggled his fingers at her in a decidedly mocking way. “Oh yes, Fili,” he called over, affecting a somewhat posh accent which Bilbo supposed was meant to be a terrible impression of herself. “Inspired idea! Here, we'll have a game of pass-the-hobbit from here til we hit the mountain!” The brothers laughed at the look on Bilbo's face, for she was very definitely against the thought. The two were a shameless pair of flirts, she could tell, and she was already blushing at being jammed sideways into such a decidedly male chest. Before she could try to find the words to protest against the idea, Gandalf appeared beside them. He had hopped off his own fine white horse and put a saddle on the smallest of the ponies, and was now giving Fili and Kili a stern look.

 

“Master Fili,” he said, his voice loud enough that it gave the blonde dwarf a start. “Would you mind unhanding our burglar?” the wizard continued. Fili ducked his head, and pulled his pony to a halt so Bilbo could free herself. “My apologies, Gandalf,” he said, voice pitched low, suddenly sounding older. More mature. Gandalf raised his eyebrows at him, and without turning his head, called Kili over. The younger brother brought his pony up beside his brother, the wizard, and the hobbit. He shrugged with an easy smile. “Oh come now Gandalf, it was just a bit of fun!” he said, but the wizard looked at him and his mouth snapped shut. “Master Kili, would you please help Mistress Baggins onto her pony?” It wasn't really a question. Kili turned to face Bilbo, who was blushing all the harder now at all this attention. The dark-haired dwarf put her hands on his shoulders, and grabbed her by the waist, helping her to slide off of Fili's saddle. In one smooth motion, he spun her into the air and planted her down on her own pony, and then gave her a stiff nod. Then he was back on his pony, and after a nod from Gandalf, the young brothers spurred on their ponies to catch up with the rest of the company. Gandalf huffed, and then gave Bilbo's pony a little pat on the rump, startling into a walk. Bilbo made a startled noise at the motion, but after a moment she found herself riding beside Gandalf, him pointing out ways to make the trip easier.

 

“You will have to make a number of adjustments. Dwarves are not at all like hobbits. Theirs is a culture which relies on certain rules, traditions. It is likely that you will offend them all throughout the course of your time spent with them, probably more than once. And, doubtlessly, they will expect you to know all of their customs already. Few of them will think of your ignorance if they feel you've crossed them. This will take courage from you Bilbo, you must hold your ground against them. Do not back down or simper apologetically, they will not respect you for that. Take them, as an example,” he said, pointing at Fili and Kili who were riding ahead of them. “They are young, a bit arrogant, and used to taking what they can get. But they are also honorable. If you allow them to, they will tramp all over you. Which is why you must handle your interactions with them firmly, don't let them get the upper hand. You need these dwarves, Bilbo. And they need you. But nothing of this venture will work if there isn't mutual respect.” Bilbo nodded, and then pointed a thumb toward the head of the line. “What about Thorin? Everyone seems quite happy to let him boss them around, how do I deal with... With all that?”she asked. She glanced up at the wizard when she got no response. He sighed, forehead creased.

 

“Thorin Oakenshield is, without a doubt, the most important member of our company. You must understand, dear Bilbo, I do not say this to indicate that the others are unimportant, they are each very important indeed. I say this, because Thorin is their king.” Bilbo straightened, eyes wide, and stared ahead at the back of the dwarf in question. “At least, he is their rightful king. The dragon Smaug attacked Erebor when Thorin was as young as Fili, and since then, he has lost both is grandfather, Thror, and his father, Thrain. He views that mountain, and the throne and treasure within it, his birthright. It is his goal to bring his people back to their home, and to lead them as king,” he paused, and gave a small chuckle. “It would, perhaps, be prudent to treat Master Oakenshield as the rest of them do, allowing him privileges that he certainly won't allow you, as he is royalty.” Gandalf looked down at him with his brows raised and a glint of mischief in his wise old eyes. “But then, he is not _your_ royalty. I don't mean that you ought to disrespect him, indeed, he deserves all the respect in the world. But do not allow him to take advantages with you, Bilbo. He will try to assert himself as your superior, much as he did in your home last night. I dare say it has been a long time indeed since he's gotten as strong a tongue-lashing as you gave him. Most amusing, most amusing indeed. So I would say, my friend, to treat him as you feel you should.” Bilbo considered this, and then nodded. Then her attention was caught at the sound of a gruff voice- Oin, she thought- shouting up ahead.

 

“Come on then, Nori, pay up!” he shouted. The dwarf in question, with a great deal of grumbling, pulled a small purse from his pocket and tossed it to the older dwarf, who caught it with a little cheer. Suddenly, purses were flying through the air. Bilbo tried to track them. Fili groaned and passed his to Kili, before aiming a roll of his eyes back in her direction. Ori caught one from Bombur, Bofur threw one at Gloin, and far up ahead she saw Thorin handing one to Balin. She looked up at Gandalf. “What's happening, have I missed something?” she asked. He gave her a small smile. “They took bets on you. Many bet you wouldn't come.” Bilbo tried to decide if she was annoyed by that, but found she really wasn't offended at all. She threw a curious glance up at the wizard. “What about you?” she asked. The tall fellow straightened, one eyebrow raised, and looked down past his crooked nose at her. “I am not in the habit of gambling, Bilbo Baggins,” he said. And then his hand popped up to catch the purse that had been aimed at him, and he chuckled, leaning closer to her conspiratorially. “But then, I'm not in the habit of losing out on money from foolish dwarves.” He straightened, giving a merry laugh and pocketing the purse. “I never doubted you for a moment, dear girl!” he said, letting his voice carry over the crowd. It was met with a few groans, and one little cheer from Ori. Bilbo beamed at him, and he looked away, blushing. It was then she saw Dori, who had been so fond of her tea, pulling a purse from his pocket. He tossed it a little way up the line, into the waiting hand of Dwalin. She narrowed her eyes at that, confused. The big, warrior dwarf looked back, catching her eye. He shook his head, still looking somewhat annoyed, and growled something to Thorin, who chuckled. Most confusing.

 

They continued on for the greater part of the day, and while Bilbo loved looking around at the strange plants and flowers, the interesting little streams and rock formations, all of these things she hadn't seen before, she had to admit she was getting tired. Her legs ached, her rear was sore, her abdomen and back felt tight and stiff, and still the pony plodded on, bouncing her. She couldn't help but feel rather bad for the pony, who had to handle her weight, the weight of her pack, and the actual task of walking through these fields. She patted the pony, Mildred, on the neck, silently thanking her for her help. It was about an hour past sundown when they finally stopped for the day, taking refuge in a small, rocky cave for the night. Everyone tied up their ponies, unrolled their bedrolls, and then Bombur pulled a pot from his pack, which had some vegetables, oil and a bit of meat inside. He began cooking a sort of soup, and Bilbo's stomach growled loudly in anticipation of it. She had only had two of her six meals so far, and her little body wasn't used to the hunger. But the soup, while being tastier than she'd expected given the lack of things they had to put in it, was hardly enough to fill her. She sat on her bedroll, which was close to the fire, but far enough away from the company that she didn't feel uncomfortable. She had never had her sleeping quarters so close to a bunch of males before in her life, and she was trying to adapt. She fiddled with the chain on her locket, taking a self-indulgent moment to think about what she could be eating right now back at home, and almost didn't notice a dwarf plopping down beside her. It was Bofur, with his funny hat. He grinned toothily at her.

 

“How you doing, then, burglar?” he asked. She looked up at him, startled. “Oh, I'm fine! Definitely! Beautiful scenery, it's lovely,” she said, flapping a hand as she lied through her teeth. He looked amused. “Ahh, lovely it is, yes,” he said, leaning back on his hands and slanting a look over at her. “So you're used to riding ponies over long distances, are you?” he asked casually. Bilbo looked over at him, frowning gently. “Because, truth be told, you don't really look the pony riding type. And if I'm right abou' that, I reckon you're feeling quite uncomfortable at the moment.” He said all of this casually enough, but Bilbo frowned at him suspiciously. He looked up at her, and the cheeky grin faded a little as he took in her expression. She huffed a little sigh, and then turned to face him fully, Gandalf's words bounding around in her head.

 

“Look, I'm not thick or anything, I know you were trying to convince me not to come, and then I fainted, and then I lost you money, and you're probably annoyed that I'm here now. But I am here, and I am coming with you lot, so you had best get used to it,” she said firmly, brow set, lips pursed. He looked at her for a moment, and then gave a short burst of laughter, sitting fully and shaking his head. “There's no need to look so serious about it, lass!” he said, sounding most amused. “Look, I'll be honest with ya. I was acting like a bit of a prat back at your place, no doubt about it, because I am actually just a bit of a prat. It wasn't that I didn' want you to come along, it was more tha' you looked so funny! A pretty little round thing at a table with a lot of big, messy dwarves, and y' just kept squawkin and flailing around, it made me laugh. And then you got all heated and tough-” he chortled at the memory. Bilbo found herself smiling a little in spite of herself. “You stood up tae DWALIN, for goodness sake! A dwarf I have seen personally covered in blood, holding a severed head by the hair, stomping through a battlefield, shoutin' enough to scare the piss out of a rock. And y' stood there, in your wee yellow dress with your hair all curly, and you shouted at him. I don' think I have _ever_ laughed so hard in my whole damned life, I'll tell you that. And yeah, I scared you. Because that made me laugh a little, too! A wee hobbit yelling at a warrior, and then fainting dead away a moment later? Oh, there were tears in my eyes!” He lowered his head to look up at her through his lashes, smiling in an almost friendly way. And then he poked her hard in the knee. “I bet against you coming, tha's right. Because if anything, I thought we'd pissed you off so much that you'd stay well away. And maybe you will drag us down. Maybe you'll get in the way, maybe you'll be the direct cause of the failure of our journey. But you made me laugh. And for that, I'm glad tha' you came.” He stood, and put a hand on her shoulder. “Just promise me that I get to stand front and center next time you go up against Dwalin, though, I'd sorely hate to miss it.” With that and a wink, he turned and walked back over to his own bedroll, pausing on his way to pat Dwalin on the top of his bald head, laughing a little as the warrior growled at him. Bilbo smiled after him, feeling sort of... Warm inside. It was a comfort to know that one of the dwarves was genuinely pleased with her choice to come along.

 

It was much later at night, and most of the dwarves had fallen asleep. Bilbo was tossing and turning, but found sleep just wasn't coming. Her bedroll was an old thing, thinner than those of the dwarves, and everywhere she lay there was a hard rock under her shoulder, irritating a back that was already sore from riding the pony. It was all very distressing. On top of her discomfort, she was beginning to get annoyed, for she was laying near enough Bombur that all his snoring was grating over her, a sort of deep, chesty snore that nearly seemed to target her and her alone! Bilbo grumbled, and then gave up, rolling out from under her little blanket. She stood, and wandered over to where the ponies were tied up, sneaking an apple away from Bombur's provisions on her way. She went over to Mildred, easily the smallest of the ponies, and smiled, petting her flank affectionately, holding the apple out to her. She murmured to the pony as Mildred attacked the apple with big square teeth and rubbery lips.

 

“There you go, old girl. A sweet little treat for you. Yeah. Not easy being the smallest, now, is it Milly?” Bilbo smiled, gazing at the pony with her big, sweet eyes. “Never you mind, girl. You and I, we're in this together.” Her affectionate ramblings were cut short as all out of nowhere, a loud screech echoed over to their camp. Bilbo froze. It was a sound she had never heard before, no bird call, it sounded almost like a scream of pain. She looked back toward the fire, where Fili and Kili sat, each with their pipes. She caught their eyes. Clearly, they had heard it too. She ran over to them.

 

“What was that?” Bilbo hissed, wringing her hands. The brothers exchanged a look, and then Kili turned his eyes on her. “Orcs,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “The woods will be teeming with them this time of night. They hunt down wayward travelers, see. They wait till everyone is asleep, and then they hit. No sound, no word of warning, just lots of blood.” Bilbo shivered, and looked out into the woods. Then she heard a sound like laughter behind her and she frowned. They were having her on. Oh, the cheek of the blasted dwarves. She turned back, ready to have it out with them, really give them a piece of her mind, but when her mouth opened, it was not her voice that cut across the camp.

 

“You think that's funny, do you? A night raid by orcs? Do you think that a clever joke?” Bilbo turned, and saw Thorin, walking toward them from where he'd been sitting. His dark eyes were narrowed in anger. Fili and Kili shifted under his gaze, looking uncomfortable and a bit ashamed. “We didn't mean anything by it,” said Kili, not quite meeting Thorin's eyes. Thorin's lips curled, and he walked past them, shoulders set. “No, you didn't,” said he. “You know nothing of the world.”

 

Bilbo looked over at Fili and Kili, and was taken aback by the looks on their faces. While they were at least as old as she, they suddenly looked a bit too much like her younger cousin had that day her family had gone a-visiting, and Petunia had been caught in the pantry eating all the blueberry muffins. While Fili and Kili were missing the teary eyes and purple blueberry stains on their mouths and fingers, they looked just as hurt from their scolding. They looked vulnerable. And suddenly Bilbo was annoyed at Thorin, and she found herself wanting to cuddle both dwarves up to her, pat their heads and tell them everything was okay. Which was, she knew, ridiculous. But they were all interrupted from their thoughts by Balin, who had stood up and wandered over at some point.

 

“Don't take his words too hard, lads,” he said softly. “Thorin has more reason than most to hate the orcs. You see, after the dragon took Erebor, King Thror tried to take back the old dwarf kingdom of Moria. But the orcs had gotten there first. Legions of them had settled in the mines, lead by the most vile and vicious orc in their number, Azog the Defiler. The giant, pale orc had long ago made it his mission to wipe out the line of Durin.” Out of the corner of her eye, Bilbo saw Fili and Kili look at each other, but she was focusing too hard on Balin's tale to take much notice. “During the battle of Moria, he saw his chance, and beheaded the King. Thrain, Thorin's father and Thror's son, was driven mad by grief. Whether he was captured by orcs, or simply walked out of battle and abandoned his people, we never saw him again. We were leaderless, and the orcs proved too powerful for our number. Death and defeat were upon us. But that, is when I saw him.” Balin's face shone with pride as he turned to look at Thorin, who was standing very still at the mouth of the cave, looking down into the forest. “A young dwarf prince, bloodied and shaking with rage, taking on the pale orc. He stood against that- that vile, terrible foe. His armour was all but broken, his shield lost in the throes of battle. He took up a great oaken branch as a last line of defense, and charged the pale orc. And just as all hope seemed lost, he took up his sword, and cut the orc's arm off, even as he brought it down for the killing blow. Azog the Defiler learned that day that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken. Our forces rallied with Thorin taking his place as our leader, and the enemy was pushed back and defeated.” Bilbo shivered, and in her mind she could almost hear the echoes of clashing swords and battle cries. Balin looked back to the fire, his face crinkling sadly at the memory. “There was no feasting that night, no celebration. Our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived. But I thought to myself then, just as I do to this day, 'There is the one who could lead us. There is the one I could call King.'” Thorin turned back to face his old friend, and for a moment, that cold, strong exterior was gone, in place of it a look of great emotion. And Bilbo stared in wonder of him. She realized she was not alone in that, all of the dwarves had awoken during the tale and stood around her, staring at Thorin with looks of astonishment and pride. Thorin nodded to the company, eyes shining, and he walked back toward the fire. Bilbo felt some swell of unnamed emotion rising up in her, and for the first time, she felt a great respect and admiration to the dwarf. But a thought drifted into her mind, and she turned back to Balin, eyes round and questioning.

 

“But the pale orc? What became of him?” she asked, voice cracking softly. It was Thorin who asked her, suddenly quite close by her back. “He slunk back into that forsaken pit from whence he had come,” he said, gazing down at her. She felt a blush rising to her cheeks under the force of his gaze, but tried to ignore it. “That filth died of his injuries long ago.” He passed her, going back to his spot against the cave wall. Bilbo stared after him, and then looked back to Balin. The older dwarf was staring into the fire, looking troubled. It took the hobbit a moment to understand. Balin didn't believe the orc had perished, and it was a belief that troubled him deeply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The night went on, as nights are wont to do. Many of the dwarves stayed up for a while after the story had ended, murmuring to each other or else staring into the fire, consumed by their thoughts. But one by one, each of them lay back on their bedrolls, pulling their thick traveling cloaks around them, and fell asleep. Bilbo sat by the fire for as long as she could, until the exhaustion hit her. She fell back onto her own bedroll and pulled her thin blanket up to her chin. But the cool night air bit at her most sharply, so she dug inside her pack and pulled out her lacy shawl as well, wrapping it around herself. It did little to help. She lay there, eyes shut tight, shivering so hard that she couldn't sleep. And when she managed to still the shivers, her teeth clattered instead, vibrating the world behind her eyelids. Bilbo was starting to get rather emotional, as a hobbit will when they are so very tired and yet unable to sleep. But when she whimpered, her teeth chattering pathetically, she heard a rustle of movement from the company behind her. The sound of heavy dwarf boots approaching her bedroll. Then the sound of someone sitting behind her, and then laying behind her. And then, suddenly, an arm was slung around her waist. Bilbo squeaked a little in surprise, tensing as the arm tightened and pulled her backward till she hit a solid chest. She started to protest, but whoever was holding her from behind just shushed her, and then settled down, and a moment later there were snores behind her. 'Well," Bilbo thought sleepily. 'This is incredibly improper. I am being cuddled by a dwarf.' But the body around her was warm, and she felt the shivering and teeth chattering slowing as her body relaxed against the heat. She supposed she ought to at least check to see who it was warming her up, but no sooner had the thought struck her than she was asleep.
> 
> In the morning, she awoke to the sounds of the dwarves grumbling and packing their things as Bombur restarted the fire, starting a breakfast cooking. By that time, she was alone in her bedroll. The dwarves were milling around and stretching, none of them paying her much mind. She stared at each of them, trying to figure out who had held her the night before. But each of them seemed somehow likely and unlikely at the same time, and Bilbo didn't want to alert the entire company to the fact that she'd been cuddling with a strange dwarf by asking about it. So she simply frowned, and began packing up her things.
> 
> \--------
> 
> This chapter was a lot of fun to write. We have flirty dwarves, cheeky dwarves, and brooding dwarves. And one cuddly stranger. Who do you think it was, hm?
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The traveling continues, until suddenly, trolls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The night went on, as nights are wont to do. Many of the dwarves stayed up for a while after the story had ended, murmuring to each other or else staring into the fire, consumed by their thoughts. But one by one, each of them lay back on their bedrolls, pulling their thick traveling cloaks around them, and fell asleep. Bilbo sat by the fire for as long as she could, until the exhaustion hit her. She fell back onto her own bedroll and pulled her thin blanket up to her chin. But the cool night air bit at her most sharply, so she dug inside her pack and pulled out her lacy shawl as well, wrapping it around herself. It did little to help. She lay there, eyes shut tight, shivering so hard that she couldn't sleep. And when she managed to still the shivers, her teeth clattered instead, vibrating the world behind her eyelids. Bilbo was starting to get rather emotional, as a hobbit will when they are so very tired and yet unable to sleep. But when she whimpered, her teeth chattering pathetically, she heard a rustle of movement from the company behind her. The sound of heavy dwarf boots approaching her bedroll. Then the sound of someone sitting behind her, and then laying behind her. And then, suddenly, an arm was slung around her waist. Bilbo squeaked a little in surprise, tensing as the arm tightened and pulled her backward till she hit a solid chest. She started to protest, but whoever was holding her from behind just shushed her, and then settled down, and a moment later there were snores behind her. 'Well," Bilbo thought sleepily. 'This is incredibly improper. I am being cuddled by a dwarf.' But the body around her was warm, and she felt the shivering and teeth chattering slowing as her body relaxed against the heat. She supposed she ought to at least check to see who it was warming her up, but no sooner had the thought struck her than she was asleep.
> 
> In the morning, she awoke to the sounds of the dwarves grumbling and packing their things as Bombur restarted the fire, starting a breakfast cooking. By that time, she was alone in her bedroll. The dwarves were milling around and stretching, none of them paying her much mind. She stared at each of them, trying to figure out who had held her the night before. But each of them seemed somehow likely and unlikely at the same time, and Bilbo didn't want to alert the entire company to the fact that she'd been cuddling with a strange dwarf by asking about it. So she simply frowned, and began packing up her things.

Bilbo had only just finished chewing the last mouthful of her meager breakfast, when the dwarves once again spun into action. In the time it took her to realize that they were preparing to move, and to rise to help, nearly every sign that they'd used the cave had been packed away. The remains of the fire were brushed out of the mouth of the cave, and fell down the side of the low, slanting cliff. Bilbo stood there, still holding her little plate, hopping from foot to foot as she tried to decide how to be helpful. But everything was done, and now Thorin was turning from the ponies he'd been preparing for the road, gazing over his company, checking that everyone was ready to go. He frowned as he looked at Bilbo, who was still standing away from the group, holding a plate and looking quite flustered. “Was there something you were waiting for, Mistress Baggins?” he asked, his voice coming out quick and cold. Her eyes widened, and she considered snapping at him, but then she looked at him and could almost see his past battle-worn self, wielding a great oak branch and screaming with anguish at the sight of his slain grandfather. She shook her head hard, and then dashed over to the group, plate in one hand, her pack in the other. The rest of the company had already gotten up on their ponies. She stared at her lovely little Mildred, and then at the pack and plate occupying her hands, and her eye twitched. Thorin was staring at her impatiently. “Is there a problem, _burglar_?” he asked. Bilbo turned to glare at him, when suddenly Bifur hopped off his own pony. He came over to her, not saying a word, and slung her pack onto the wee pony. Then he grabbed her plate, one she had brought from home, turned, and threw it, hard, out of the cave. Bilbo watched blankly as it sailed over the trees, disappearing from view. Then Bifur had hoisted her up, planting her on Mildred's back. He put the reins in her hand, and then leaned in closer, gave her a look, and muttered something low in dwarvish. He gave her a comforting pat on the hand, and then returned to his animal, swinging onto the pony's back with ease. Bilbo shook herself, and took a breath to thank the strange dwarf with, when Thorin gave a shout.

  
  


“If we are all ready, then,” he called, frowning pointedly at her. “Our late start-” another jibe at the flustered hobbit, “-has meant that we will not be able to outrun the bad weather. I suggest you all bundle up.” He spurred his pony, and the others followed suit, and soon they were all moving on the path again. Bofur rode up alongside her and gave her a grin.

  
  


“How're you holdin' up, Mistress Baggins?” he asked. She smiled at him, and shrugged. “Not too badly. Although... I must say, with all the respect he is due, I am getting mighty tired of Master Oakenshield's tone,” she said quietly, with a grimace. “Surely he must know that all this is new to me?” Bofur chuckled. “I'm sure he understands it, I just doubt he cares much.” Bilbo gave him a look. “Thanks for that, happy for the support,” she grumbled, looking back to the road. The dwarf shrugged. “You'll learn as you go along, as we all did,” he said, though Bilbo was skeptical of his optimism. After a moment of silence, she turned to him and addressed him quietly.

  
  


“Bofur, what did Bifur say to me?” she asked. Bofur grinned at her toothily. “Bifur is a fine dwarf. He always has been, although after the battle he got tha' little prize from,” he tapped his forehead to ensure she got the point, “he lost a bit o' himself. He'll go into fits at times, and then at other times he's rather sullen. But since that fight, he lost the ability to speak Westron, see. Now he only speaks in Khuzdul, the ancient language of the dwarves.” Bilbo nodded, looking down the line at the dark, hairy dwarf. She turned back to Bofur when she heard him snort. He raised his brows at her and gave her a look. “What Bifur said was, _'Ozirum menu seleku_.' It, eh... It basically means that you're unskilled in areas which a dwarf place pride in.” Bilbo blinked. “So he was insulting me?” “Oh, aye, but he meant it kindly!” Bilbo huffed, and then turned back to the path. 

  
  


They had been riding for about an hour when the rain hit them. Gandalf laughed when the first of the fat, heavy drops fell on his hooked nose, but everyone else grumbled, yanking their hoods further over their faces. Bilbo had no such luxury. Coming from the Shire, where one could easily dash home from anywhere in the town in case of a downpour, they had never really seen much need for a thick, hooded cloak. It also didn't help that the strongest of rainfalls typically didn't hit Hobbiton. They hadn't had truly foul weather in quite a long time. This, which Bilbo was riding through, was truly foul weather. The rain hit them hard, as though the sky itself was weeping fat, angry tears at their progress. A cold wind was whipping at their fronts, strong enough that poor Bilbo couldn't see. There was a shout from somewhere in their line, though Bilbo could not hear what had been said. And then something heavy hit her face. She started, nearly falling from her pony, but managed to stay in her saddle. The great heavy thing, as it turned out, was a cloak. Dori had thrown it to her, and she tried to call her thanks to him over the wind. She wrapped it around her, fully cocooning herself, for it was a proper dwarf-sized cloak, and she was a proper hobbit-sized hobbit, meaning that it was rather large on her. After a while, the wind slowed, though the rain continued pouring down on top of them. 

  
  


“I say, Gandalf,” shouted Dori as he flapped his cloak to get some of the water off. “Can't you do something about this deluge?” Gandalf made a gruff sound in reply. “It is raining, Master Dwarf, and it will continue to rain until it's done. If you desire to change the weather of the world, you ought to go and find yourself another wizard,” he replied. This sparked a question in Bilbo's mind. “Are there?” she called to the wizard. “Are there what?” he replied, looking back over his shoulder at her. “Are there other wizards?” “There are five of us,” said Gandalf. “The chief of our order is the great Saruman, the White. And then there are the two blue wizards, and they...” he trailed off, distractedly. “Do you know, I have quite forgotten their names,since they moved further West.” Bilbo nodded. “And who is the fifth?” Gandalf gave a fond little smile. “The fifth, why, that would be Radagast, the Brown.” Bilbo rolled the name around on her tongue a couple times. “And is he a great wizard, or is he more like you?” She immediately winced, the foul weather had rather robbed her of her politeness. She had rather meant that calling a wizard, already such an imposing title, a great wizard, made him seem all the more intimidating, where Gandalf came off as being wise and friendly, without being frightening. Gandalf raised a bushy brow at her comment, and then frowned. “Why, I think he is a very great wizard, in his own way! He is a very gentle soul, he prefers the company of animals to that of others of a more wizardly shape. He keeps a watchful eye over the woodlands to the East, and is most protective of all creatures in that region. A good thing, too, for evil will always look to leave a mark on that which is good and peaceful.” Bilbo nodded thoughtfully. She pictured it in her mind, and decided that she rather liked the idea, a kindly wizard living in the woods, taking care of all the squirrels and birds and the like. 

  
  


Even as a small smile tugged at her lips, there was a loud crack of thunder from ahead, and the rain somehow grew stronger and heavier in it's attack. She scowled and looked around at the other dwarves. Nori seemed to have thrown his cloak over Ori, and was now riding with only the protection of a thin, more summery cloak, and a small hood. She wondered at that, he seemed a rather callous type, clever and with a slightly cruel twist of his mouth. But then she looked at Ori, who, under two heavy cloaks, was still shivering, his big, sweet eyes squinting to try to see through the rain. Bilbo felt she rather understood. The three Ri's, as she thought of them, were brothers. During their ride the day before, Gandalf had explained to her that many years ago, Nori had discovered a talent in thievery, and fell into rather destructive habits. In his joy of stealing and drinking and gambling, he had been called dishonourable by those around him, and even Dori had turned from him at a particularly low point. But through it all, there had been a tight bond between the three, the sort of bond that tended to form among siblings when their parents had passed on. Bilbo had asked, why, then, Nori was on this venture. Gandalf said he supposed it was to do with the money, though he didn't look like he really believed it. Looking at the sneak of a dwarf, now shivering himself, she saw more clearly a resemblance between him and his fussing, mothering older brother. He was there because his brothers were. And because the dwarves of Thorin's company gave him respect, believed him to be honorable. Bilbo felt her heart warm toward Nori just a little bit.

  
  


By the time the dwarves stopped for the evening, it wasn't really evening yet. But the sun had finally come out, and the air was warming up, and everyone was damp and grumpy, so Thorin pulled them away from the path. A little way away from their trail, at the foot of a small mountain (or else a large, rocky hill), there was a lovely area that was made up of large, mossy boulders, the edge of the woods, and the broken remains of what used to be a farm house. Bilbo hopped off her pony with a little grunt, and looked around. It was a rather pretty area, she thought, if maybe a touch overgrown, with tall grass and trees and even some smatterings of sweet-smelling weeds. Thorin jumped down from his pony as well, and the rest of the company took that as their cue to dismount. 

  
  


“We will camp here for the night. Fili, Kili, you'll watch over the ponies tonight. Keep a close eye on them,” he said. The two young dwarves had just been stretching, wandering around, checking out the area with curious eyes, but at Thorin's words, they gave little half-bows and lead the ponies to what had once been a horse enclosure. They didn't look pleased about it. Bilbo frowned and turned to Bofur, who was nearby. “Why does he talk to them in such a harsh, unpleasant way?” she asked. Bofur gave a little shrug. “Well for one thing, they're both still fairly young by our standards. Look at Kili, the lad hasn't even got a proper beard in yet. So I guess it could be that Thorin gives them more direction so they'll learn to grow up a mite quicker. Plus, they can be cheeky li'l runts when they feel like it, so sometimes they need a little scold. But I'd say it's most to do with the fact that they are his nephews,” he said. Bilbo looked up at him, startled, and then started looking back and forth between the brothers and their uncle. Now that she looked for it, she could see a resemblance. “Fili's the eldest, so he's basic'ly being groomed to become king one day. Kili's the real mischief maker, though. Thorin feels responsible for them, but he also doesn' want it to seem like he favours them. So, to try to be more fair, he speaks harshly to them.” Bilbo blinked at the logic, and was about to ask further questions when she heard Gandalf's voice from where he stood a little ways away, in the ruin of a house. 

  
  


“It is my decided opinion that it would be wiser to move on from this place,” said Gandalf. Thorin paused from where he'd been issuing orders and jobs to his company, and then went to join the wizard in the house for a wee conference. Bilbo tried to hear what they were saying, but she didn't want it to become clear that she was listening in. She went over a little closer to stand by Balin, who seemed to be doing the same as she, listening without desire to be caught. Suddenly, the wizard turned on his heel, and began, well, rather _stomping_ away from the group. Bilbo ran after him. “Is everything alright?” she asked, though if he heard her, he ignored the question. He continued on, walking through the company and away. “Gandalf, where are you going?” she asked a little louder. “I am going to seek the council of the only one in the area with any sense,” came his terse reply. “Who would that be?” she called after his retreating back. “MYSELF, Mistress Baggins!” he shouted over his shoulder, and then continued stomping away, muttering under his breath. He sounded very cross indeed. She turned to peek over at Thorin, who looked quite thoroughly incensed as well. “Come on, Bombur. We're hungry,” Thorin said through clenched teeth. Bilbo turned to look at Balin, who looked a bit troubled, but gave her what was probably meant to be a soft, comforting smile. It came off as more of a grimace. She grimaced back. “Do you think he's coming back?” she asked in a small voice, for she was very fond of the wizard, and saw him as a bit of a link to her normal life. Balin only shrugged, and then wandered off to help set up camp. She looked over the company, Bofur shaking water from his pipe, Bomber wringing water out of his beard, and Thorin, growling at everyone like a great angry bear. And then she went to claim her own little area, beside a large rock, and to go over her wounds, which were minor, but included a stiff back, a hand with a small cut from a prickle that had gotten caught on her reins, and, embarrassing as it may be, severely chafed thighs from riding a horse in a skirt in the rain.

  
  


About an hour later, all but two of the company gathered in the broken little house, where Bombur had set up a roaring fire and a large pot of lamb stew. Bilbo went to join the company, peering out into the woods and pathways as she did. There was no sight of a tall, pointy hat anywhere. She was wringing her hands in her skirts with worry as she approached for supper, as it was awfully dark now, and she worried for her friend. Bofur looked up at her from his position as stew-ladler. “He's been an awfully long time,” she said in answer to his curious look. “Who has?” he asked. She looked at him with big, worried eyes. “Gandalf! He must be gone at least an hour now, I reckon,” she said. Bofur shook his head at her worries. “He's a wizard! Wizards are flighty animals, they don' like bein' tied down too long. Here,” he said, pressing two bowls of stew into her hands. “Do us a favour, and take these down to the lads, eh?” She nodded, and wandered off to the edge of the wood where the ponies had been tied up. It took her a moment to find them in the dark, but after a quick search, she found herself standing behind Fili and Kili, who were staring intently at the ponies, both standing very still.

  
  


“Here you are, Master Dwarves, I've brought you some of Bombur's stew.” She stepped around in front of them and held the two bowls for them to take. Neither of them moved, both still staring at the ponies, frowns creasing their foreheads. Bilbo frowned in response. “What's the matter?” she asked, turning to look toward the ponies, who were munching away at the tall grass, looking happy as a group of ponies would. Kili responded from behind her.

  
  


“Well, see, we're supposed to be looking after the ponies,” he said.

  
  


“Only, we've encountered a slight problem,” said Fili from over her other shoulder. Bilbo squinted at the ponies with a small frown. She saw no signs of trouble, none of them were bleeding, and if they looked rather tired, well, that was fair, given how long they'd walked. “What's the problem, they look well enough to me,” she said. She heard the two of them shifting uncomfortably behind her.

  
  


“Well, see, there ought to be sixteen,” said Kili.

  
  


“There are only fourteen here,” said Fili. Bilbo felt her heart do a little pattering as she assessed the situation. Doing a quick count, she saw that, indeed, there were only fourteen little ponies in the enclosure. The enclosure itself was a fence, tall enough that the ponies wouldn't easily be able to jump over it, and the only entrance and exit form the enclosure was the gate directly in front of Bilbo, Fili and Kili. Unless the two ponies had run out of the gate without the brothers noticing... Bilbo frowned. “Any chance two of them could have gotten around you and out of the gate without your notice?” She asked, though her voice sounded about as optimistic about that as she felt. Not much. The brothers both looked down at her, looking a little offended. Her frown deepened. “I rather thought not,” she said. Then the three of them walked into the enclosure together, to take a closer gander at the situation.

  
  


“Daisy and Bungo are missing,” said Fili after a moment of looking around. Bilbo felt her heart jump into her chest. She didn't actually know which those two ponies were, but Bungo was the name of her father, and she suddenly felt rather upset. “Oh no,” she said. “That isn't good.” She stopped just before walking into the backs of the brothers, who had stopped suddenly. She craned her neck around them to see what had stopped them. A tree had been snapped in half, it's thick trunk broken in one, clean crack, the top half dropping into the enclosure. She took a deep breath. “That- That is very not good at all!” she squeaked nervously. “Should we go and tell Thorin?” she asked, looking back and forth between them. They both grimaced, and shook their heads. “Oh, no. Better not, no need to worry him,” said Fili, walking around the severed tree and gazing at it with interest. Kili popped up from around the back of it, grinning tightly at her. “Actually, we were thinking, maybe our resident burglar would like to look into it!” Both brothers were now giving her toothy little grins. She seriously considering telling them to sod off, but she couldn't refuse the twin looks of desperation in their eyes. And she remembered how rudely they were being treated by their uncle. She sighed heavily, and put the bowls of stew down on a flat rock. She dusted off her hands on her skirt, and walked over to the pair of them.

  
  


“Well, then, um. Well, I mean, it looks like this was done by...” They were both looking at her expectantly. She patted the trunk. “Something big. Yes. Something that was really quite big and strong attacked this tree. And then made off with our ponies, most likely.” They didn't look impressed. “Yes, that was rather our thinking,” said Fili diplomatically. She nodded, trying to look as though she knew what she was doing. “Something big,” she repeated. “Big, strong, and- probably very definitely not friendly.” She put her hands on her hips, and the three of them stared around, as though expecting the woods to provide an answer. As it turned out, the woods did. Fili suddenly crouched a little, gazing a little ways into the distance. “Look, over there, there's a light!” he said. He and Kili shared a look, and then they were jumping over the fence and running as stealthily as they could to go investigate. Bilbo hesitated for a moment, then turned and dashed off toward the gate, pausing to grab the two bowls of stew. Then she ran the long way around the enclosure, and ran almost silently over to where the two brother dwarves were hiding in the bushes. She nearly ran into a large, hairy leg, and her heart stopped, but it kept moving past her. She ducked down between Fili and Kili and looked into the clearing in front of them. There were two huge monstrous looking things arguing over a fire, and a third was joining them. The third had two ponies, one under each arm. He carried them over to a tiny enclosure, and dropped them in rather unceremoniously with the ones that were already there. Bilbo scrunched up her face as a horrible smell hit her. “What are those _things_?” she hissed. Kili leaned in close, his mouth right on her ear. “Those, little burglar, are _trolls_ ,” he said. She was too busy being disgusted by the big old brutes to blush over how close the dwarf was to her. “My goodness,” she breathed, nostrils twitching as the odor which was somehow both soupy in the way it spread outward from the source, and sharp, like a dagger of stench. “Do you know, I think they intend to eat our ponies!” she squeaked. “We have to do something!” Fili grabbed her shoulder, and she looked into his big, blue, and suddenly commanding eyes. “Yes, you should,” he said, sounding excited. He shoved her backward into Kili, who grabbed her shoulders and held her so she was trapped between them and their commanding tones. “Mountain trolls are big, ugly brutes, but they're incredibly slow, and they're arguing so loudly, they'd never hear you,” Fili was saying. Bilbo was shaking her head viciously before he finished the sentence. “Nonono, no, I couldn't _possibly_ -” “You're so stealthy, they would never know you were there! Look, it's perfectly safe, and we'll be right behind you the whole way,” Kili insisted, turning her so she was practically sitting on him, his nose almost touching hers. He looked at her with an intense gaze that reminded her too much of his uncle. Bilbo froze, mind racing, and a soft voice piped up somewhere in her mind. 'You may as well, it'll be good training for when you really _are_ burglaring. After all, this is the sort of thing they brought you along for, isn't it?' She nodded to the voice, and Kili grinned. Suddenly, he plonked his forehead lightly against hers, took the stew away from her, and then he was turning her toward the troll camp. Fili grabbed her arm, yanking her back into him, and whispering in her ear. “If you get caught, or you run into any trouble, hoot twice like a barn owl and once like a brown owl.” And then the cheeky thing landed a firm slap on her bottom, which sent her bounding forward. She rubbed her rump and scowled as she crept forward, but then realized she had no idea what the difference was between a brown owl and a barn owl, let alone their hoots! She turned back desperately, only to find that they had left her there alone. 

  
  


Bilbo ground her teeth, thinking a multitude of mean thoughts about the dwarves. And then, against her better judgement, she crept quietly over to the troll camp. They seemed to be arguing about the food, while the one cooking tried to defend himself, occasionally beating the other two with his large spoon. Bilbo's heart was pounding in her ears, and she dodged hands and legs and feet, sneaking up on the enclosure. There was a large knot of rope holding the structure together, but luckily, where a knot may seem tight to a troll, it looked rather loose and simple to a hobbit. So she started picking away at it with quick, deft little fingers, but rather unfortunately, she failed to notice her positioning. She was standing in a crouch, her skirts pooling around her legs on the forest floor. And she happened to be standing there beside an old, used, and frankly really rather disgusting old handkerchief. If she had noticed this, it may have come as more of a shock when a big hand reached back, grabbed a handful of her skirts rather than the hanky, and pulled her up to a big, smelly, ugly face. However, there is likely nothing that would have prepared her for suddenly having a big, troll snout burying into her tummy, before blowing quite hard against her. Bilbo shrieked, her dress suddenly covered in thick, ropey mucus. The troll screeched too, and Bilbo cringed, trying to get out of his hand. “BLIMEY!” screeched the troll, very nearly dropping her. “What's 'at what's come outta me nose?” All the trolls gathered around Bilbo, who was making very high pitched, panicky noises. One of the trolls frowned. “Issat some typa squirrel?” he asked, and grabbed Bilbo by the ankle, hoisting her up in front of his face to examine her. “Oi, you, you... Thing! What are you s'pposed to be, then?” he asked. Bilbo squeaked. 

  
  


“I'm a burgl-HOBBIT! I am a hobbit!” she shrieked, almost giving away her role in the company. The troll frowned. “Wha'sa _burgahobbit_ doin' in our camp?” he asked suspiciously. One of his friends piped up. “Maybe we can eat it! 'Ere, can we eat you?” Bilbo gaped at him, spluttering hysterically, trying to keep her skirts from scandalizing her. “No! You most certainly can NOT eat me!” she squealed. The third troll was just staring at her, frowning, as though thinking was taking a lot of effort. “Are there more of you _burfnahobbits_ crawling around?” The one who'd blown his nose in her nodded excitedly. “Oooooo, good question, tha'! Are there anymore of you scamperin' around here?” He all but bellowed this down at Bilbo, seeming to think that if she was smaller than he was, she'd probably have a harder time hearing than they did. Bilbo squeaked at he poked her, making her swing back and forth by the leg, which was very uncomfortable indeed. Thankfully, the troll holding her seemed to realize that she was the wrong way around, and he flipped her up in the air, catching her tight in his other hand. She screamed as loudly as she could, because you see, hobbits, being so close to the ground on a regular basis, were not in any way fond of heights. The troll shook her, and yelled, “Are there anymore o' you flurflobbits in the woods?” Bilbo thought for only a moment about ratting out the dwarves, a wicked little voice telling her she could probably trade herself for them and get out of the entire mess. But she immediately shook her head in a wild way, appalled at her own thinking. 

  
  


“No! There aren't! I'm the only one of me that has ever been!” The troll who had used her as a hanky snarled. “I think that it's _lying_!” he exclaimed. “'Ere, hold her over the fire! Burn her toes until she squeals!” he was practically giggling. And then, suddenly, he wasn't giggling, he was shrieking in pain. There was a shout from below. Bilbo looked down to see Kili, who had leaped out of the woods sword-first, and hacked viciously into the leg of the troll. He held the sword in front of him, and glared with a manic little grin at the trolls. 

  
  


“Drop her!” he shouted, teeth bared. The troll holding Bilbo snarled and snorted and glared. “You what?!” he shouted at the dwarf. Kili spun his sword around in his hands in a clever and intimidating way. There was fire gleaming in his eyes, and he like a warrior, rather than the cheeky little flirt Bilbo had grown accustomed to. “I said, DROP HER,” Kili repeated, his voice sounding quite dangerous. Bilbo suddenly felt incredibly warm toward the dwarf who had come to save her. The trolls, however, seemed very unhappy about the rescue attempt. The one holding her growled, and then quite suddenly, tossed her. She was all at once flying through the air towards Kili, who, thankfully, reacted quickly and dropped his sword. Bilbo hit his chest, and they tumbled a little, landing in a heap of limbs, Kili rolling protectively so that he was on top of her, his eyes blazing. Bilbo stared up at him in a daze. Then, the woods were suddenly bursting with sound! The entire company came spilling into the camp, weapons held high, roaring at the trolls. Thorin was at the head of the group, bellowing ferociously, a big sword already swinging into the legs of the trolls Kili looked down at her, grinned in a blood-lusty way, then kissed her soundly on the forehead, before patting her shoulder, grabbing his sword, and swinging up into the fray. Bilbo lay there a moment longer, winded, before she found herself being pulled up into a certain blond dwarf. He kissed her on the forehead as well, shouted “Go get the ponies!”, and then let out a fearsome bellow and ran to aid his kin. Bilbo looked around frantically. Bombur seemed to be beating a troll mercilessly around the ankle with his soup ladle. Dwalin had a great axe, already imbedded in the fleshy calf of another troll. Perhaps most astonishingly was Dori, who hadn't grabbed a weapon at all. He was climbing up the third troll, with speed that Bilbo hadn't expected of him, and then on reaching a big ugly face, was punching it! Sweet, fussy, tea-loving Dori! Now beating a troll directly in the eye! Bilbo shook herself, realizing that she was still standing there uselessly. She ran over to the enclosure, dodging feet and dwarves alike, and made quick work of the knot. Then she ran into the felled enclosure and started shouting at the ponies, giving one a swift thump on the rear. They all spooked and ran. Bilbo spun around to run away, but stopped dead, startled, as Bofur suddenly flew through the air in front of her, clearly having just been thrown as she was. Her pause was all it took to give one of the trolls a chance to grab her. Suddenly she was up in the air again, behind held spread-eagle between two humongous troll hands! She looked down into the battle, and saw Thorin's eyes widen as they caught sight of her. He gave a roar, and the other dwarves stopped, looking around. 

  
  


“Drop your arms!” demanded the troll. “You drop your arms, or we tear her's off.” There was a tense moment as everyone considered this development. Bofur made a move to run at the troll, but Thorin held him back. He looked at her with such an intense anger in his eyes, that she whimpered, almost certain that he'd leave her there. But then, he drove his sword into the ground. One by one, the dwarves threw down their weapons. 

  
  


The next minutes were a blur to Bilbo. All she knew was that suddenly, she and the majority of the dwarves were tied up, shoved in sacks, and thrown in a pile on the ground. She was laying partially on top of Thorin, who was glaring at her with such intensity, that she felt quite overwhelmed. Her eyes were welling up with tears of frustration and fear. Particularly fear for the dwarves who weren't in sacks. They had been stripped of their outer clothing, and tied to a spit. Bofur, Nori, Bombur, Dori, and Ori. And they were being rotated over a huge fire. All the dwarves will yelling, cursing, and getting angry. Bilbo looked up and caught Thorin's eye; he was giving her a look of extreme dislike. The panic was bubbling in her throat, but she forced herself to take deep, calming breaths. The dwarves were being too excited and too loud, it was clear none of them were making any plans to get free. Getting free was key, you could easily threaten them with painful death from a distant point later on. None of the dwarves were thinking straight, so Bilbo figured it was up to her. She shut her eyes tight, trying to think over the noise. The trolls were arguing about the best way to prepare the dwarves, whether they ought to be cooked, stewed, chopped up and stored, or made into jelly. Bilbo fought down her nausea and focused. The trolls were big, stupid, and easily angered. They fought constantly. She could stall for time easily enough, but what good would that do?

  
  


Then, she heard it. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard coming from the mouth of a troll. The troll in charge of turning the spit was getting angry at the other two, who were distracting him with talk of different methods of dwarf preparation. “Enough of that!” he snapped. “We don't have much time before the sun'll come up, an' I don't fancy turnin' into stone!” Bilbo's eyes popped open. Sunlight turned trolls into stone! Brilliant! She looked up at Thorin again, looking to see if he had heard it as well, but he was still trying to kill her with his eyes. Bilbo made a very unhobbity noise, something that sounded a bit like a strong, grumbly oath, and then looked back to the trolls.

  
  


“Wait!” she cried. “You are making SUCH a TERRIBLE mistake!” The trolls paused and looked over at her, as Dori gave a yell from the spit. “You can't reason with trolls, lass, they're half-wits!” Bofur answered from the other end of the spit, “If they're the half-wits, what does tha' make _us_?” Bilbo ignored them all, and tried to wriggle into a standing position to better talk from. She willfully ignored the grunt Thorin gave as her bottom bumped against his hips, thought she still blushed. She was thinking quickly now. She hopped forward to stand in front of the pile of dwarves. “No, you're making a mistake with the seasoning, I mean! What've you got there, sage? That'll never work with dwarf!” Everyone in the camp stopped what they were doing to gape at her. The troll that had wiped his snot all over her patted the cooking troll on the arm. “Don't pay her any mind, eh, she don't know _nuffin_!” But the troll working the spit swatted him away and came to crouch in front of Bilbo. “You lot shut up, an' let the nurflineri-nobit talk!What d'you mean, sage won' work?” he asked, eyes narrowed. Bilbo thought frantically. “Well, I just mean, have you smelled them? Phew, must've been on the road for ages, sage is far too- Too delicate to overpower THAT kind of stench! You'll need much stronger spicing than that!” Bilbo forced herself to focus on duping the troll, though it was becoming difficult, given that a few of the dwarves were now shouting at her, calling her a traitor. But the troll looked thoughtful. Bilbo quickly continued. “Matter of fact, I think you're going about it entirely the wrong way! Cooking them? No, it'll just make them dry out!Mutton roasts well, dwarves do _not_ ,” she declared. The troll considered that. “What would you suggest, then, eh?” he asked her. “Well, you see, the secret to cooking dwarf is, ehm...” she trailed off, looking into the distance, trying desperately to think something up, because, of course, she had never cooked a dwarf in her life! The troll was prodding her excitedly. “What is it, then?” he demanded. She forced a smile onto her face, trying to think of them as not being her group of dwarves, but a group of cattle. “Well, I mean, first, obviously, you have to... To skin them, and-” The rest of her sentence was drowned out by the combined angry roars of all the dwarves around her. Dwalin was yelling some very choice words at her, and Nori was hollering about skinning her before she'd ever skin him. One of the other trolls grunted. “What absolute _rubbish_! Skin 'em? You don' have to _skin_ 'em! I've eaten plenty of dwarf with skins on, just eat 'em raw, boots and all!” The other troll piped up. “Yeah! Why no' just eat 'em whole?” To Bilbo's horror, he came over to the pile and grabbed Bombur by his long, braided beard. He held the fat dwarf over his mouth, ready to bite. 

  
  


“NOT THAT ONE!” Bilbo roared in a panic. “You- You _can't_ eat him, he's got... Worms!” The troll looked at her with a disgusted expression. “Yes!” she cried. “He has worms! In his- In his tubes!” With a little shriek, the troll threw Bombur back into the pile. Bilbo could have laughed out loud, she was so relieved. “In fact, I wouldn't touch any of them, they're all infected with horrible parasites! Yes! Huge, ugly parasites, I wouldn't risk it if I were you!” The troll on the spit had stopped turning it to squint at her. To her great frustration, the dwarves started shouting at her all the louder. “Parasites? We've not got parasites, YOU have parasites!” and other such stupid things, the bloody ponces. Then, there was a dull thud. Bilbo glanced back and saw Thorin staring at her intensely, but it seemed like he was prompting her with his eyes. The thud had been him kicking his nephew in the shoulder. The dwarves all hushed, looking at their leader, and then back at the hobbit lass. Then Oin shouted “Oh, I've got parasites, parasites as big as my arms!” and then Kili chimed in with “I have HUGE parasites, really, you've never _seen_ such big bastards as _my_ parasites!” And now all the dwarves were yelling, each claiming they had the worst parasites that could be found for miles around. “I'm riddled! I'm absolutely _crawling_ with them!” cried little Ori. 

  
  


“What would you have us do, then?” asked the troll nearest Bilbo. “Let them all go?” Bilbo cringed at the angry tone to his voice. He was on to her. “Well, I mean, I just think, wouldn't it be awful if you all caught some sort of- of dwarf virus?” she squeaked, trying to keep it up. “Maybe you're righ'.” The troll leered down at her, grabbing her in his fist. “Maybe we should just eat you first after all!” She heard a few voices behind her, shouting, demanding the troll unhand her. But before anything else could happen, a great, rumbling bellow sounded all around them.

  
  


“ _THE DAWN WILL TAKE YOU ALL!_ ” Bilbo looked around wildly, and then she saw him. A silhouette against a lightening sky. Tall, pointy hat, robes whipping around in the wind, a great staff held between two hands. It was Gandalf. The trolls seemed rather taken aback by him. “What's that, then?” asked one. “Can we eat it?” asked another. And then Gandalf brought his staff down hard on the tall rock he stood upon, and it split cleanly down the middle, revealing a bright, glorious sunrise. The troll holding Bilbo let out a yell, throwing her down to try to cover himself, but it was no use. They twisted and shrieked, and then, suddenly, they were nothing more than statues. Bilbo had fallen back hard against Thorin, and lay there, winded, staring into the wide open mouths of the stone trolls. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first to be set free were the dwarves over the fire. Gandalf cut them all down, and then turned to the pile. Bifur reached Bilbo first, loosening the top of her sack so she could wriggle out. Then he went to rescue his cousin, Bombur. Bilbo rolled off of Thorin, shimmying out of her sack and then helping the proud dwarf out of his. He didn't thank her, but instead went to talk to Gandalf, though she didn't know what about. Bilbo frowned. Apparently her quick thinking had not been enough to redeem her in his eyes. Bofur came over to her, grinning madly. He grabbed her around the waist, lifted her above his head, and spun in a merry circle.
> 
> "That was brilliant!" he shouted when he'd put her down. She stumbled dizzily, and was caught at the hips by Kili, who immediately gave a little grown of disgust and pulled his hands away. 
> 
> "What is that?" he demanded, looking at her skirt. She looked down. Her skirt seemed to have taken the full brunt of the mucus. She wrinkled her nose. "I was used as a handkerchief." she groaned, feeling a little sick. Kili frowned, and then considered her for a moment. "Oi, Fili!" he yelled, and grabbed Bilbo by the hand, bringing her over to his brother. "Stand still," Kili demanded, and then pushed her up against Fili, back to back. Kili stared back and forth between him, then shook his head. Then he grabbed a passing Bofur and pulled him up against Bilbo's front. Bofur grabbed her hips to steady himself, and then scrunched up his face in disgust at the mucus that stuck to his fingers. Kili wasn't satisfied, and yanked her over to Dwalin, pushing her back up against his front. The big, bare-headed dwarf grabbed her shoulders and pushed her away. She banged into Nori, who frowned and caught her. 
> 
> "THERE!" shouted Kili. "That'll work! Oi, Nori, lend us a pair of your trousers." Both Nori and Bilbo looked at Kili's toothy grin, and then at each other in disbelief.
> 
> A few moments later, her skirts had been thrown onto the troll's fire, and Bilbo was standing in front of it, wearing a pair of dwarf trousers, blushing at how much of her lower half they revealed. Fili and Kili walked around her in a circle, grinning like cats.
> 
> "Well, Mistress Baggins, I hereby insist that you wear nothing but trousers for the rest of your days," Fili said in a low voice by her ear. She swatted at him, blushing, and scurried over to her wizard friend.
> 
> \--------
> 
> There go the trolls, and Bilbo's outfit! I hope you liked this chapter, another one will be joining it soon. This was a bit of a long one, but I was really excited to write the trolls. Thank you for reading!
> 
> EDIT: I felt I should mention, what Bifur really said to Bilbo was, "You couldn't forge a spoon", which is a dwarvish insult. Um. But he meant it kindly!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the trolls, and Bilbo arms herself properly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first to be set free were the dwarves over the fire. Gandalf cut them all down, and then turned to the pile. Bifur reached Bilbo first, loosening the top of her sack so she could wriggle out. Then he went to rescue his cousin, Bombur. Bilbo rolled off of Thorin, shimmying out of her sack and then helping the proud dwarf out of his. He didn't thank her, but instead went to talk to Gandalf, though she didn't know what about. Bilbo frowned. Apparently her quick thinking had not been enough to redeem her in his eyes. Bofur came over to her, grinning madly. He grabbed her around the waist, lifted her above his head, and spun in a merry circle.  
> "That was brilliant!" he shouted when he'd put her down. She stumbled dizzily, and was caught at the hips by Kili, who immediately gave a little grown of disgust and pulled his hands away.   
> "What is that?" he demanded, looking at her skirt. She looked down. Her skirt seemed to have taken the full brunt of the mucus. She wrinkled her nose. "I was used as a handkerchief." she groaned, feeling a little sick. Kili frowned, and then considered her for a moment. "Oi, Fili!" he yelled, and grabbed Bilbo by the hand, bringing her over to his brother. "Stand still," Kili demanded, and then pushed her up against Fili, back to back. Kili stared back and forth between him, then shook his head. Then he grabbed a passing Bofur and pulled him up against Bilbo's front. Bofur grabbed her hips to steady himself, and then scrunched up his face in disgust at the mucus that stuck to his fingers. Kili wasn't satisfied, and yanked her over to Dwalin, pushing her back up against his front. The big, bare-headed dwarf grabbed her shoulders and pushed her away. She banged into Nori, who frowned and caught her.   
> "THERE!" shouted Kili. "That'll work! Oi, Nori, lend us a pair of your trousers." Both Nori and Bilbo looked at Kili's toothy grin, and then at each other in disbelief.  
> A few moments later, her skirts had been thrown onto the troll's fire, and Bilbo was standing in front of it, wearing a pair of dwarf trousers, blushing at how much of her lower half they revealed. Fili and Kili walked around her in a circle, grinning like cats.  
> "Well, Mistress Baggins, I hereby insist that you wear nothing but trousers for the rest of your days," Fili said in a low voice by her ear. She swatted at him, blushing, and scurried over to her wizard friend.

 

Gandalf and Thorin were still muttering to each other when Bilbo approached, and she cleared her throat quietly. The two looked at her. Gandalf smiled down warmly at her, patting her shoulder kindly. “Why, Bilbo, good to see that you are still in one peace,” he greeted, noticing her borrowed bottoms with a lift of his brow. Thorin seemed rather... Confused, maybe? Annoyed? Bilbo couldn't tell, the tall dwarf was just staring, unabashedly, at her legs. She felt the blush rising again, and patted her hips nervously. “In one piece, yes,” she said after a moment. “Though one of the trolls used my skirt as a pocket handkerchief, and I'm afraid it was no longer wearable. Master Nori has very kindly given me a pair of his trousers to wear, for the time being.” Gandalf's smile widened. “It is a comfort indeed to see that you have been looked after, I must say,” the wizard stated, waggling his brows at her in reference to the less than warm welcome she had received. Bilbo grinned. “Yes, well, I think it was mostly them worrying about the smell I'd be carrying on my person if I continued wearing the skirt, but I am grateful none the less.” She aimed this last bit over at Thorin, not wanting to seem rude. He was still looking at her legs. His eyes went to hers, and they were narrowed with his frown. He gave a little grunt, and then looked off and away into the woods. Bilbo looked up at Gandalf, brow furrowed, and he gave a small, knowing chuckle, though Bilbo failed to see the humor in his gruff demeanor. With a shrug, she gave the wizard a little wave, and a final scowl in the direction of the rude head of the company, and turned to head back to the rest of the dwarves. Intent on apologizing to everyone, and perhaps finding some food as she had missed out on her own bowl of stew in the excitement, she missed the exchange happening behind her.

  
  


Gandalf looked at Thorin with a small smile. “My dear Master Dwarf, you act as though you've never seen a female in trousers before,” he said. Thorin looked back at the little hobbit, trying not to notice the way the trousers molded to her lower half. He scowled. “I do not take offense at the trousers, Gandalf. I take offense at _her_. First she scolds me in front of my company, as if I were a misbehaving child. Then she throws off our schedule with her lack of any experience in the matter of travel, leading to us all getting soaked through to the bone. And now, she had endangered our lives, getting us all captured and nearly eaten by trolls. And now she strolls around in dwarf trousers, as though she is one of our kind. She's a bloody menace, and I have half a mind to send her back home,” he said, agitation clear in his voice. Gandalf sighed exasperatedly. “Thorin, until a few days ago, Bilbo Baggins was living in a hobbit hole, alone, and trying to settle her mind to being bored and lonely for the rest of her days. We have thrown her entire life off-kilter with our venture. She is new at all of this, but she will learn. And I think we both know that it was not her idea to engage with the trolls,” he said pointedly, indicating with a tilt of his head to Fili and Kili, who were laughing merrily as the hobbit swatted them away from her. Thorin frowned as he considered them. “And not only that, she had the nerve to try to stall for time until the sun rose, while the rest of you squabbled and bellowed, I might add. I have every belief that if you allow her time to adapt, Bilbo will become a most important member of your team. As far as the trousers go, a skirt is a simple enough article to locate. Though I find myself doubting that they really bother you all that much,” he added, a cheeky tone in his voice. Thorin glared up at them, and then looked out over the woods again, silently brooding. Gandalf sighed, and then looked at the trolls again. After a moment, he cleared his throat. “They would not have been able to travel in daylight,” he said. Thorin nodded. “There must be a cave nearby. Come on, wizard,” said Thorin, and they went off to search. 

  
  


Bilbo had made her way through most of the dwarves in the camp, apologizing to them for the trouble she'd caused. A couple, Dwalin and Oin, responded only with a small growl, and so she blushed, stammered and left them alone. Nori had been a touch prickly, but after she had apologized and thanked him alternately with as much earnest passion as she could muster, he sighed, rumpled her hair, and told her there was no problem, but that she'd need to learn to better defend herself in situations such as the one she had gotten into. Balin, Dori, Ori, Gloin, Bofur and Bombur had all told her they did not hold it against her, Gloin and Bofur in particular laughing and clapping her on the shoulder, Dori and Ori both giving her little smiles and congratulating her on her quick thinking. She had tried to apologize to Bifur, but had only ended up yelling at him that she hoped he wasn't angry about it, with him yelling back something in Khuzdul and pointing wildly at her wrist. When she gave up on _that_ attempt, she went to apologize to Fili and Kili, who had warmly told her that they would never mind any sort of trouble they got into on her account, both of them winking at her and laughing at her blush. Bilbo had narrowed her eyes at them.

  
  


“Now look here, you two. You have both been very aggressive with me, in a flirty way, yes, but aggressive nonetheless. Now, I am a hobbit, so I don't know if perhaps dwarves have some different customs in- Well, in this _area_ , but I would have you know that, much as I like the pair of you, and attractive as you may be, I will not be so tolerant of you pushing your advances on me. Do you understand?” Bilbo planted her fists on her hips, trying to look stern. Both Fili and Kili had surprised looks on their handsome faces, and they looked at each other.

  
  


“Do you understand what she's saying, Kili?” Fili asked. “Why yes, brother, I do!” Kili answered, and then hooked an arm around Bilbo's waist, pulling her up close to him. “She said she finds us both attractive!” Both brothers laughed as she spluttered and swatted at them, and then they apologized. “We didn't mean to truly make you uncomfortable, Mistress Baggins,” began Fili, as his brother interrupted with “Well, not VERY uncomfortable, at least,” which earned him an elbow in the side from his Fili. “We will do our best to behave more honourably with you, and do apologize if we upset you.” Bilbo nodded, and then smiled as, mirroring each other, they leaned down, and kissed her lightly, one on each cheek. Bilbo turned and walked away from them, flushed and a little more cheerful, though her exhaustion was beginning to take a toll. Bofur took her by the arm as she passed him. “Oi, lass, what was all that abou'?” he asked, jerking a thumb toward Fili and Kili. Bilbo looked at him with heavy, tired eyes. She turned and squinted at the two brothers. “I think that I may have just been assertive,” she said after a moment, and then she smiled at the dwarf, and continued walking over to where all the ponies now stood, dropping her forehead against Mildred's neck. The quiet moment was interrupted as she heard Thorin shout for everyone's attention, from where he stood a little ways away. She shuffled over, and was immediately hit with a strong, sharp odour. She looked closer, and saw that they stood at the mouth of a large cave. Given all the chatter around her as dwarves wandered in and out of it, it seemed as though it was where the trolls had spent their daylight hours. Bilbo tried to stare inside, but the stench was making her eyes water and her stomach crawl into her throat, so she wandered over to Bombur, who was sorting through a large sack of food he had found and was sorting through.

  
  


“Bilbo!” The hobbit turned at the sound of her name. Gandalf had emerged from the cave with a grave look in his eyes. She went to him, and before she could ask if something was the matter, he was holding something out to her. In his hand, it looked like a pretty little dagger. But in front of her face, it was a sword, with a beautiful hilt, tucked into a fine sheath. She looked at it wonderingly, taking it as it was held to her. “I believe this is your size,” Gandalf was saying. She looked up from the sword, and frowned, shaking her head a little already. “Gandalf, I cannot take this,” she said, and she meant it. Not just because it was a very fine weapon, and not just because she hadn't the slightest idea of how to use it, but mostly because she felt deep inside her that there was no way she could take a life. The wizard crouched to bring his eyes on level with hers, and nodded, seeming to understand. “It is of elven make,” he said. “That means that if it comes near a goblin, or an orc, the blade will glow blue.” She understood his meaning, that it would be a very handy thing to have on hand, but still she hesitated. “Gandalf, I have never used a blade for anything more than buttering my toast,” she said, feeling alarmed at the weight of the weapon in her hand. “And I hope that you will never have to,” he replied. And then he put a hand on her shoulder, and she was meeting his kind gaze. “However if you do, I hope you will remember this. True courage is not taking a life, rather, it is knowing when to spare one.” Bilbo was still for a moment, and then she nodded. She grasped the sword, one hand on the hilt, the other on the scabbard, and pulled. The blade slid out easily. It was a beautiful blade, gleaming, with Elvish lettering curving a good way down it. The blade had a gentle curve to it, like an hourglass, and she pressed a thumb against the swell of it, testing the sharpness. She smiled down at the sword, and then up at the wizard, who was holding a thin leather contraption, made up of straps. He wrapped it around her waist, tied it tight on her, and showed her how to attach her sword to it. Bilbo had to admit, she felt much braver with the sword heavy on her hip. And then Bombur gave an excited shout, drawing her attention. He had found a large beef flank wrapped in thick, shiny paper. 

  
  


Bilbo forced herself to stay awake. Thorin had decided to stay at their spot by the broken house for another night, given that none of them had gotten any sleep, and even fewer had had enough to eat. Bombur had set himself the task of fixing that, and, using a huge pot he had found and a good portion of the food stash, he made a thick, creamy stew of beef, potatoes, carrots, parsnips, and rather a lot of stout that he had found tucked away somewhere. He even succeeded in making fat little dumplings, which sat on top of the stew to cook. They all ate as the sun began to set, and most of them went back for seconds. A few went back for thirds. Bilbo and Bombur went back for fourths, and they grinned warmly at each other, sitting down with their bowls to commiserate over how they'd had to cut back on meals already, and how nice it was to have a stomach full of good, hot food again. It was Bilbo's first time talking to the large, happy dwarf. They talked about great meals they'd had, and recipes they themselves had had particular success with. She learned that he had been an architect, and part of his desire to journey to Erebor was that he had been a wee dwarf indeed when it had been taken, and he longed to see the beautiful halls with their intricate carvings. Bilbo smiled all the way through their chat, and every time she complimented his cooking, which was often, his cheeks would redden and he'd laugh in a merry way, and Bilbo found she liked him very much. 

  
  


The good luck, however, didn't hold for long. They all decided to go to sleep early, as everyone one of them was mostly exhausted. The wind had kicked up again, however, as well as a light rain. It was the sort of rain that felt rather like being submerged in a cloud, it didn't fall on you as much as it sort of stuck to you and you suddenly found yourself soaked. Bilbo found a spot by the crumbling wall, and she curled up facing it to try to block the winds, but soon enough, she was shivering and shaking and feeling quite miserable. 

  
  


This time, with the moaning wind, she didn't have the warning of footsteps. All at once, she became aware of someone at her back. And then the arm on her waist, and then the chest at her back. Bilbo chewed on her lower lip, thinking hard. This was an incredibly indecent thing to have happen. She had never in her life been held intimately by a male. Not once, excepting the time she'd gone adventuring on a snowy day and come back half frozen, so some hobbit lad who was a little older than her had gathered her into his lap as she sat in front of a fire, rubbing her arms to get her blood pumping again, and that had been quite nice. But this was a near stranger, and a dwarf near stranger at that! But she couldn't deny that she felt warmed, which was wonderful. This time the dwarf had slung some heavy bit of blanket or cloak over her, so she felt really rather toasty indeed. That, and she felt a lot safer, especially after the previous night, when there had been a fire, and soup, and then trolls out of the blue. Having the weight of a sturdy male curving around her, she felt much more comfortable and secure. Then Bilbo spent a moment wondering if she ought to roll over to see who it was, but whoever it was, he had tucked her head under his chin, so if she did roll over, she would be face-first in a fellow's neck. Plus, she wasn't sure she really wanted to know. She felt rather certain that it would just make future conversations and travels with the dwarf feel rather odd and uncomfortable. So she simply closed her eyes, snuggled deeper into the chest of the dwarf, delighting in the way a deep chuckle rumbled against her back. And then, a moment later, she was asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next day, Bilbo awoke feeling cheerful and well-rested, and immediately started packing her things. Bofur came over and stood in front of her, raising an eyebrow as she sped around him.
> 
> "Hey now, Mistress Baggins, wha's all the rush?" he asked. She smiled at him. "Oh, good morning, Master Dwarf! I'm just getting ready to head out, I'd hate to bring on the wrath of that old grump again," she said, twitching her head in the direction of Thorin, who was sitting next to Gandalf on a large, flat rock, having a quiet talk. Bofur chuckled. "No need to worry, we're going to be staying a little longer than expected," he said. Bilbo looked up at him with a small frown. "Why is that?" she asked. Bofur shrugged. "Who knows, he's a king, he does what he likes. But as it is we're staying, so you'd best unpack again, Mistress Baggins." Bilbo blew a loose lock of hair out of her eyes and smiled at him. "Master Dwarf, I understand you're a dwarf of excellent breeding," he gave a small, mocking bow, eyebrows raised in amusement, "but I would feel much more comfortable if you called me Bilbo." He shrugged. "Alrigh', but if I do, you'd best call me Bofur. Deal?" He held out a large, calloused hand. She smiled and then took it, her hand much smaller and softer in contrast. "Deal," she said. The two of them stood smiling at each other for a happy, peaceful moment. And then, the peace shattered abruptly as Nori whirled out from behind a corner, gave a battle cry, and tackled Bilbo to the rocky ground.
> 
> \--------
> 
> Another chapter done! At last, some dwarf acceptance of our little hobbit. I hope you enjoyed it, thank you for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Radagast appears, and orcs attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next day, Bilbo awoke feeling cheerful and well-rested, and immediately started packing her things. Bofur came over and stood in front of her, raising an eyebrow as she sped around him.  
> "Hey now, Mistress Baggins, wha's all the rush?" he asked. She smiled at him. "Oh, good morning, Master Dwarf! I'm just getting ready to head out, I'd hate to bring on the wrath of that old grump again," she said, twitching her head in the direction of Thorin, who was sitting next to Gandalf on a large, flat rock, having a quiet talk. Bofur chuckled. "No need to worry, we're going to be staying a little longer than expected," he said. Bilbo looked up at him with a small frown. "Why is that?" she asked. Bofur shrugged. "Who knows, he's a king, he does what he likes. But as it is we're staying, so you'd best unpack again, Mistress Baggins." Bilbo blew a loose lock of hair out of her eyes and smiled at him. "Master Dwarf, I understand you're a dwarf of excellent breeding," he gave a small, mocking bow, eyebrows raised in amusement, "but I would feel much more comfortable if you called me Bilbo." He shrugged. "Alrigh', but if I do, you'd best call me Bofur. Deal?" He held out a large, calloused hand. She smiled and then took it, her hand much smaller and softer in contrast. "Deal," she said. The two of them stood smiling at each other for a happy, peaceful moment. And then, the peace shattered abruptly as Nori whirled out from behind a corner, gave a battle cry, and tackled Bilbo to the rocky ground.

Bilbo fell with a shriek, which cut off sharply as the weight of the dwarf winded her. Then Nori pulled back quickly, sitting on her stomach, and put a hand to her throat. Bilbo gave a small frightened squeak. Bofur and some of the other dwarves gave a shout of alarm. Nori just stared at her, as if waiting for something. Bilbo blinked at him as her heart rate slowed. After a moment, he gave her a small smile. 

  
  


“With as much time as has just passed here, I could've killed you three times,” he said, quite matter-of-factly. She swallowed hard at that, believing him. “So then, how would you get out of this?” he asked. She felt her face scrunch into a frown. “Excuse me?” “How would you get out of this? A great ugly goblin jumps on you, he's got his hand on your throat, what do you do?” Bofur smacked Nori on the shouder. “Oi, let her up, she's got no idea what you're doin',” he said. Nori rolled off of her, and then held out a hand to help her up. Bilbo looked at it, then at him, and then made a grumpy little noise and rolled to her feet. 

  
  


“Would you mind telling me just what you think you're doing, Master Dwarf?” she demanded angrily. He held out his hands, as if to ward off her indignation. “Well now, y'see, I mentioned to you earlier that you needed to work on defending yourself for when we're needing to deal with an enemy, otherwise you'll be at a serious disadvantage. I passed my thinking on to Thorin, and he agreed, so he's made me your trainer,” he explained. Bilbo's eyes narrowed, and she turned to glare at Thorin accusingly. Unsurprisingly, he was very pointedly not looking at her. Bilbo cleared her throat and turned to tell Nori off. He looked as though he was expecting it. But Bilbo just stood there, arms folded, fuming quietly. She could feel Thorin's eyes on her now, as well as most of the other dwarves. And she knew what was expected. She was a proper hobbit lass, after all. It was expected that she would stutter and stammer and get in a huff, and then tell them off, proving that she was not adaptable, and that she was only going to get in the way. In all fairness, she knew that she had been that way so far, meek and silly. 'What a fine way to treat a stranger,' she thought with an inward frown. But then, she let a smile pull at her lips. She grinned at Nori, baring her teeth. He raised his eyebrows, curious. She turned and stomped over to a grassy patch, and then turned back to face him, trying to pull the sword belt from her hips. He squinted at her, and she shrugged. “You have a point, I've not fought someone in years, not since I tore out a patch of Halfred Greenhand's hair and got a hiding for it. I'd rather be prepared than not, so come on and teach me what to do,” she said, tilting her chin up at him, and suddenly feeling more like the wild little hobbit she had once been. Nori looked over at Thorin, and then at the other dwarves. Many of them were looking at Bilbo strangely. She fidgeted a little, but held her ground. With a shrug, Nori came over to her, and so their first lesson began.

  
  


An hour passed. Bilbo was bruised, battered, and stubbornly refusing to quit. She had not yet gotten a hit of her own in, though she had been thrown onto her bottom many a time. She could feel herself tiring, but was determined to land a bloody hit once before she gave in. “Come on then,” said Nori. “I'm being much gentler than an orc would ever be, you have to really _try_.” She all but snarled at him, running at him with her little fists tightening, but he sidestepped her, crouching down low and tripping her before jumping away. Bilbo let out a little whine as she rubbed the shoulder that had taken most of her weight. Then she pulled herself to her feet, getting ready to charge again. But before she could, she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder. She spun, startled, and saw Dwalin there. He gave her a hard look. “If you keep running into his fists, you'll find that you won't last very long,” he said gruffly. Then he turned her, and pointed her in Nori's direction, both his hands on her shoulders. “When it comes to fights, ye've got to use your strengths. You're smaller than he is, and faster, and a touch more graceful. But he's got cunning, which makes him tricky. You can't go for strength, because he'll beat you there. But ye've got an advantage.” He moved in closer, muttering right in her ear. “He'll be underestimating you now. Thinking he tired you out. And he'll be thinking he knows your style, because every time, ye've gone in with your fists swinging.” Dwalin pushed down on her shoulders, and she bent her knees to accommodate. “Go in quick, and stay on the balls of your feet. Get a rhythm in your head. 'S not a fight you're after, it's a dance.” And with that, he pushed her forward. 'Right,' she though desperately. 'A dance.' So when Nori ducked out of the way to trip her again, she jumped nimbly over his outstretched foot. When he darted out at her, she jumped back a little, just missing his swipe. When he got closer to her and thrust out a hand to her midsection, she grabbed his wrist tight and rolled back and out of the way with a firm tug. Nori, already off balance, tumbled forward. Before he could leap back into a standing crouch, Bilbo took a half step, hooking both legs around her torso, and then let herself fall, trying to mimic a move she'd seen a neighbour's cat use as it tried to bring down a big fat crow. She landed hard on her backside, and banged up her elbow rather nicely, but when she opened her eyes she saw that she had successfully brought him down with her! She gave a frantic little burst of laughter at the little cheer that came up from a couple of the dwarves, and Nori gave her a wide grin. “Not bad, lass! Not bad at all. Not the best job you could've done, but it was better,” he said ruffling her hair. And then he pushed himself out of her tangle of limbs and helped her to her feet, a gesture she accepted this time. Bilbo looked around the circle and caught Dwalin's eye. He gave her a rare, tiny smile, and a nod. She beamed at him. “Alright then, on to swords!” Nori said, pulling unsheathing his. Bilbo grimaced, but tied the straps of leather back around her hips. She had only just finished and put a hand on the hilt, when she heard Thorin shout.

  
  


“There's something coming!” All the dwarves jumped to action. Gandalf was shouting orders, telling everyone to arm themselves, and Bilbo found they were all moving into a tense sort of battle position. She stood on the inner curve of the circle beside Ori, who gave her a look that was both ferocious, and a little bit nervous. She nodded to him. And then she heard it. A thumping sound that was moving very quickly in their direction. It sounded like a lot of feet hitting the ground, and her heart jumped into her throat. Was it goblins, or orcs? She looked down at her sword, but the blade was not the glowing blue she'd been told of. So, not, then. But what could it be? What fearsome foe was approaching? A screeching sort of shout could now be heard over the sound of the running feet, and she saw the dwarves looking every which way for the threat, Balin with a short sword, Kili with a bow and arrow. Then, something burst through the foliage across the way from her. Bofur and Oin jumped out of the way, and managed to avoid getting run over by the- Well, what was it? Bilbo squinted in disbelief, for it appeared to be a large sled, being pulled along by a group of great, tough looking rabbits! And on the sled itself was a funny looking man, a little short for a human, dressed in brown and grey, screaming bloody murder! She sensed Gandalf relaxing behind her, and looked back to see a little smile on his face. “Radagast!” he greeted cheerfully. She looked back at the man, or wizard she supposed. His face was tense, his mouth opened mid-shout, and Bilbo quickly decided that he was the oddest thing she had ever seen. There was a funny hat on top of his head that reminded her of the one Bofur wore. His hair was long, thin and scraggly, as was his beard. He had a blunt little nose, a pair of quick, darting brown eyes, and there was something spilling down from under his hat, onto his face, and onto his tattered robes. Bilbo had a horrible sneaking suspicion that the something was actually bird dung. There were twigs and leaves all over him, but the little wizard didn't seem to mind. He was stumbling off of the sled and staring at Gandalf, looking intensely relieved. 

  
  


“Gandalf!” The grey wizard stepped up from his spot in the formation. “Radagast, what on Earth are you doing here?” he asked. “I was looking for you, Gandalf! I have something dreadfully important to tell you, something is horribly wrong!” “And what would that be?” Radagast opened his mouth to explain, but he paused, one finger in the air, looking suddenly rather lost. “I, um- Oh. Oh what was it, it was so very important, so very important indeed! Oh, I knew it, it was on the tip of my tongue-” he said this all very quickly, wringing his hands. Then he twitched. “Oh!” He sounded surprised. “It wasn't a thought after all!” And he reached into his mouth and pulled out a stick insect. “What were you doing in there, you silly old thing?” he asked the bug. Gandalf raised his bushy brows, and his mouth twisted. He was very clearly trying not to laugh. 

  
  


The two wizards moved away to hold a quiet little conference, and the dwarves were all somewhat rattled, so Bilbo found herself quite alone. She looked around, trying to find a way to be helpful. Gandalf was giving Radagast a puff from his pipe, nothing to help with there. Fili and Kili were sparring, which was entertaining to see, but the bruise she could feel blooming on her thigh made her rather reluctant to join in. Bombur and Bofur were chatting, Bifur was whittling away at a piece of wood, Oin and Gloin were muttering to each other, Dori seemed to be scolding Nori, Balin was looking at a book that had fallen off of Radagast's sled, and Dwalin seemed to be keeping watch. She didn't feel comfortable interrupting any of them, as she was rather painfully aware of how clearly they still saw her as an outsider. And then her eyes landed on Ori. Sweet little Ori. He was sitting on a rock a little ways away, a thick leather bound book balanced on his knobby knees, a pen tracing something carefully, and the tip of his tongue sticking out from behind his teeth. His brow was furrowed in concentration, and Bilbo didn't want to interrupt, but she was curious about what he was doing. So she snuck up behind him quietly and peeped over his shoulder. And then she gasped, rather quickly revealing her presence. But she couldn't help it. She was looking at a surprisingly realistic sketch of herself and Nori mid-fight. There was a sharp little grin on Nori's face, and a wide-eyed look of determination on hers. Nori looked as though he was about to lunge at any moment, and Bilbo looked ready to spring away, hairs curling out of their bun, clothing askew from her many falls and collisions. She only got to see it for a moment, before Ori started at her gasp and slammed it shut. He looked up at her with those huge, worried eyes. 

  
  


“'s not ready yet,” he mumbled petulantly. Bilbo smiled apologetically. “I didn't mean to startle you, I just noticed that you were over here by yourself, and I wondered if you maybe wanted some company.” Ori didn't respond, clutching the big book to his chest and staring at the ground. She sat down next to him, careful to leave some space between them as not to worry him further. “Is that your journal?” she asked gently after a moment. He frowned at her. “No, these are my accounts of our adventure,” he said. “I'm the official scribe, it's my job to make note of everything that happens on our journey.” Bilbo smiled, for that seemed like a reasonable job indeed. “And you do illustrations as well?” Bilbo asked, scuffling a little closer. Ori nodded. “I wonder, could I maybe look at one? I know your work isn't finished yet, but it has been a very long time since I last saw a drawing as the ones you've done.” He hesitated, and then turned so he was squared to her. He opened the book quickly, and thumbed through a few pages, then looked at her in a way that was somehow both nervous and suspicious. The corner of her mouth quirked up and she nodded encouragingly. Ori turned the book to the open page for her to see. Bilbo felt her mouth drop open. She was looking at a beautiful sketch of Bag End, as It looks when you approach it from the South. “Ori, that is incredible,” she breathed, leaning in and studying the carefully drawn window boxes with their spill of flowers, her fence, her mailbox... She suddenly felt a little homesick. She felt a wetness gathering in her eyes, and looked up at him. “It's like standing in front of home again,” she exclaimed. “You know, I must admit, I feel rather homesick, now that I'm thinking of it. I quite miss my armchair and my big, comfortable bed.” Bilbo smiled wistfully. Ori nodded understandingly. She chewed her lower lip as she considered him. “I especially miss my bookshelves,” she said. He looked up at her. “I have some wonderful books, the most fascinating stories. Are you as fond of reading as you are of writing and drawing?” she asked. Ori nodded, smiling a little. “I think it bothers some of them,” he confessed. “Reading and writing aren't usually things that a young dwarf ought to focus on. We learn it, but we're supposed to worry about training and fighting and things.” Bilbo nodded. “I could see those being important, yes. But I must say, I think when it comes to it, reading and writing are every bit as important, although perhaps for different reasons. Do you know, I brought a couple of books from home along with me, you could read them if you like?” Ori smiled widely, but before he could reply, there was a terrifying howling. The pair of them jumped up, and Bilbo found herself wondering in a distant sort of way if it was possible to get an hour's rest in the company of these excitable dwarves! 

  
  


“Was that a wolf?” she asked. “Are there wolves out here?” Bofur stood and walked in front of her, eying the trees nervously. “Wolves? No, tha' is no wolf.” They both spun at the sound of a growl and a snap behind them, as a huge beast leapt out from the woods. It knocked down poor Dori, but before it could get to any truly nasty business, an arrow buried itself between it's eyes. A second beast jumped from an opposite ledge, and Thorin stabbed at it in mid-jump, slitting it's throat open. He stabbed it in the flank for good measure. “These are warg scouts!” he shouted to the rest of the group. “That means that an orc pack is not far behind.” Bilbo stared at him incredulously. “An orc pack?” she exclaimed. It was not a question so much as a cry of disbelief at their luck. Gandalf strode toward Thorin with purpose. “Who else have you told about your quest, beyond your kin?” Thorin looked quite startled. “Nobody,” he said. “WHO DID YOU TELL?” bellowed the wizard. “I told no one, I swear to you!” Thorin shouted back. The wizard huffed, and gazed around furiously. The dwarf stepped forward. “Gandalf, what in Durin's name is going on?” he demanded. The wizard looked down at him, expression grim. “You are being hunted,” he said simply. The dwarves began shouting, as they tended to do. “We have to get out of here,” Thorin said, his commanding voice cutting above the racket. “We can't! We have no ponies, they all bolted!” called Ori, a note of panic in his voice. Bilbo felt her stomach drop into her feet, and she stared between Thorin, Balin and Dwalin desperately, seeing them as the leaders, certain that they would know what to do. None of them looked at all pleased. A determined voice popped up from the back. “I'll draw them off,” said Radagast, striding to his sled. Gandalf whirled around to face him, looking worried. “These are Gundabad wargs, they will easily outrun you!” he exclaimed. Radagast looked affronted, and puffed himself up. “These are Rhosgobel rabbits!” he said. His eyes narrowed with a sort of dark excitement. “I would like to see them try.” Gandalf looked at him hard, and then put his hand on the shorter wizard's shoulders, seeming to silently wish him luck. Then Radagast gave a shout, and the rabbits started off at a run. As the sled pulled out and away, Bilbo could hear growling and snarling, so ferocious that it sent a shiver down her. Gandalf turned to Thorin and gave a sharp nod, which the dwarf mirrored. “Run,” he commanded, slinging his pack up onto his shoulder. Everyone did the same, and a moment later, they were moving.

  
  


They ran til they cleared the woods, and then they ran some more. Bilbo was terrified, not at all comfortable with running in a line through a great big field where there was little cover aside from large boulders. The sword bouncing at her hip made her feel a little safer, but it she wasn't used to the weight, and found it slowed her down. She was running just behind Bifur, trying to match his speed. Thorin and Gandalf lead, while Dwalin took up the rear, slowing his progress in order to protect the company from the back. Occasionally, the entire group would crowd in behind a big rock, listening desperately. Bilbo could hear the rough shouts and snarls from the orcs and their mounts, and just over that, she heard the pounding of a dozen rabbits' feet, and Radagast screeching, cackling, and daring the brutes to catch him. They ran for ages, and Bilbo's lungs were aching desperately. They came to a stop behind another great, flat rock, and Thorin had to grab Ori by the collar to stop him. He held out a hand, silencing his company. Bilbo tried to quiet her breathing, and heard a terrible noise from somewhere above them. A snarling, sniffing, guttural noise. They were being sniffed out. Any moment now, they'd be discovered. Bilbo reached out and grabbed Balin by the arm. He looked at her, and patted her hand gently in a comforting motion. She looked around at Thorin, who was standing on her other side, for some direction of what to do, and saw him nod to his nephew, Kili. The young dwarf reached back and pulled an arrow from his quiver, drawing it back in his bow. He closed his eyes, listening, and took a deep, calming breath. Then he spun forward, took aim, and let loose the string. There was a loud, high pitched whine as it made contact, and a moment later, the warg and orc had tumbled down in front of them, the warg with the arrow sticking out of it's chest. Bifur stepped forward with his huge axe, and brought it down hard, ruthlessly ending the orc mid-cry. It was too late, though. They could all clearly hear the shouts of the other orcs. The noise had given away their hiding place. Thorin was looking about for a direction to move in, and for a moment, his startling blue eyes met hers. And then Gandalf jumped out in front of all of them, pointing his staff in his intended direction. “Move, RUN!” he shouted. And they did. They ran hard, making for a line of trees, only to be cut off by a snarling beast. “THIS WAY!” bellowed Gandalf, leading them out on an angle. But it was too late. There were howls from every direction. They were trapped. 

  
  


“MORE COMING,” shouted Kili. “SHOOT THEM,” answered his uncle in kind, and they all quickly took up battle stations. Nori stood beside her and grabbed her shoulder. “Here, a very quick introduction to swords, stab them before they stab you!” he said quickly, and then dashed off to stand by his brothers. Bilbo stood beside Gandalf, and looked to him desperately for guidance. But he was gone. “WE'RE SURROUNDED!” shouted Fili, and Bilbo looked around in horror to see that it was true. Kili was brilliantly shooting down orcs, each arrow finding it's mark, but there were too many. “Where is Gandalf?” Bilbo cried desperately, drawing her sword as the circle of dwarves tightened closer in. “He's abandoned us!” yelled Gloin. And then he was swinging his axe down into the neck of a warg as Oin brought a heavy club down on it's rider. Ori had his slingshot, and shot a pebble into the eye of one of the wargs, but that only made it snarl. “HOLD YOUR GROUND!” shouted Thorin, tightening his grip on a huge, two-handed sword. Bilbo sliced through the air with her sword, hoping that she looked threatening, and hoping for a miracle. To her shock, a miracle came. “THIS WAY, YOU FOOLS!” she heard Gandalf roar from somewhere behind them. She looked over her shoulder, and saw that he stood behind a boulder. She wondered how that was meant to help them, but as Bifur, Bofur and Dori all ran behind it and disappeared, she realized that she was seeing some sort of hidden tunnel, or a hidey-hole. She went to run in, but the wargs were advancing, and she saw that some of the dwarves would be turning their backs on a bloodthirsty pack. Running on instinct and adrenaline, she darted out, low to the ground, past Fili, and stabbed out hard at the legs of a warg, which crumpled with a screech. Fili turned and stabbed into the chest of it's rider, and then retreated quickly, not even seeing her crouching in the grass, which came up to her waist. She looked around wildly. It was only herself, Kili and Thorin now. Thorin was ushering a dwarf in behind the rock, and didn't see the warg running up behind him. She ran flat out at the beast, sword held above her head, and let out a terrified cry as she dropped down at the last minute, feeling her blade pierce and then drag against the underbelly of the creature. It let out a scream, and she heard Thorin bellow, and then a series of dull, wet noises as he ended it. Bilbo felt him wrap a strong arm around her waist, pulling her up fast, and he yelled “COME _ON_ , KILI!” She panted as she looked around wildly, still up against Thorin and glad for his protective hold, for there was blood on her bodice and her legs were shaking. Kili came at a run, slid down behind the boulder, into what Bilbo now realized was a deep hole into a stone passage. “Sheath it, and jump on!” Thorin commanded, slicing into the chest of an orc, and Bilbo slid her sword back into it's scabbard. Then she turned quickly and jumped, hooking her legs high around his waist, and wrapping her arms around his neck, burying her face in his furry mantle. She felt herself go even higher, and then the bottom fell out of her world. They hit ground hard, and Bilbo tightened her grip, eyes squeezed shut. It took her a moment to realize that Thorin had jumped down into the hole, dropping them both into safety. He sat up, bringing her into a sort of seated position in his lap, and then he went still, listening. Bilbo lifted her head and listened as well. Everyone stared at the hole above them, where they could hear the snapping and growling of the wargs, and the screeching battle cries of the orcs. But then, there came a different sound. Bilbo sat a little straighter to listen. It was the sound of hooves. There were other battle cries now, reaching their ears, though Bilbo couldn't understand this language any more than she could understand the words of the orcs, or of Khuzdul. There was the sound of a fight, and then suddenly a hoarse shout from right above them. Thorin dropped his sword to tighten both arms around Bilbo, crashing her back down into him, as he lay back again. They narrowly avoided being hit by the flying body of an orc.

  
  


Bilbo peeked over to where it had landed. Gloin and Dwalin both held weapons over it, and Gandalf prodded it with his staff, but there was no need to worry any more. The orc was dead. She felt Thorin sit up again and then her head was pressed against his cheek. Bilbo pulled back a little and looked at him, suddenly realizing how close together they were, her soft front pressed tight against his hard one. There was a moment of eye contact, his wild, stormy eyes meeting her shocked honeyed ones. And then she was blushing, looking away, and tumbling out of his lap. He rose without looking at her, and walked over to the dead orc. He pulled an arrow from it's chest, and stared at it. His expression went from troubled to furious, disgusted even. “Elves,” he spat, and then threw the arrow to the ground, staring accusingly at Gandalf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While Thorin silently fumed at Gandalf, the rest of the company looked around. The tunnel was carved into the stone, and stretched on a long ways. Bilbo thought she could see patterns and figures carved into the walls, but she didn't get any time to look closer, for Bofur gave a call from the end of the path. 
> 
> "The tunnel turns off here, and then turns again, and I can' see where it ends. Should we follow it?" Everyone looked at Thorin, who was still glaring at Gandalf. The wizard huffed irritatedly, and then took the liberty of answering with a shout of, "Yes, I think we better had." Bilbo looked at Thorin, who looked away from Gandalf angrily, and caught her eyes. He looked fierce, and Bilbo shuddered, and ran ahead to walk with Bofur. She leaned in and murmured, "Why do I get the feeling that Thorin dislikes elves?" Bofur snorted and looked down at her. "You mean aside from the fact that elves are troublesome, cruel, and without honour?" She shook her head and fell silent, realizing that she was unlikely to find an unbiased opinion amongst the dwarves. They walked on.
> 
> The tunnel stretched on for a long time, twisting and bending. While Bilbo was happy to be away from the battle, she felt less and less comfortable, and more and more worried about what was waiting at the end of the tunnel. Her walking slowed, and she felt hands on her shoulders. They belonged to Fili and Kili, who smiled at her, both comfortingly and also gratefully. They seemed to realize that she had been trying to protect the pair of them during the fight. She smiled back, and they walked three abreast until the tunnel. 
> 
> Bilbo's eyes widened, and she dashed forward to try to see better. They stood in an opening in the edge of a cliff, before them was a beautiful, huge courtyard. A stone bridge reached from the cliff to the court, stretching over a beautiful waterfall. Everything looked bright, breathtaking and golden. And, without ever having seen it before, Bilbo found she recognized it from a story her mother used to tell her.
> 
> "The Last Homely House," announced Gandalf. "It is west of the Mountains, and home of Lord Elrond. It is known far and wide, though by another name," he added.
> 
> "Rivendell," breathed Bilbo. "We're in Rivendell."
> 
> \--------
> 
> This one was a little tricky, let me know if you like it! Thank you for reading.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dwarves try to get comfortable in Rivendell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While Thorin silently fumed at Gandalf, the rest of the company looked around. The tunnel was carved into the stone, and stretched on a long ways. Bilbo thought she could see patterns and figures carved into the walls, but she didn't get any time to look closer, for Bofur gave a call from the end of the path. 
> 
> "The tunnel turns off here, and then turns again, and I can' see where it ends. Should we follow it?" Everyone looked at Thorin, who was still glaring at Gandalf. The wizard huffed irritatedly, and then took the liberty of answering with a shout of, "Yes, I think we better had." Bilbo looked at Thorin, who looked away from Gandalf angrily, and caught her eyes. He looked fierce, and Bilbo shuddered, and ran ahead to walk with Bofur. She leaned in and murmured, "Why do I get the feeling that Thorin dislikes elves?" Bofur snorted and looked down at her. "You mean aside from the fact that elves are troublesome, cruel, and without honour?" She shook her head and fell silent, realizing that she was unlikely to find an unbiased opinion amongst the dwarves. They walked on.
> 
> The tunnel stretched on for a long time, twisting and bending. While Bilbo was happy to be away from the battle, she felt less and less comfortable, and more and more worried about what was waiting at the end of the tunnel. Her walking slowed, and she felt hands on her shoulders. They belonged to Fili and Kili, who smiled at her, both comfortingly and also gratefully. They seemed to realize that she had been trying to protect the pair of them during the fight. She smiled back, and they walked three abreast until the tunnel. 
> 
> Bilbo's eyes widened, and she dashed forward to try to see better. They stood in an opening in the edge of a cliff, before them was a beautiful, huge courtyard. A stone bridge reached from the cliff to the court, stretching over a beautiful waterfall. Everything looked bright, breathtaking and golden. And, without ever having seen it before, Bilbo found she recognized it from a story her mother used to tell her.
> 
> "The Last Homely House," announced Gandalf. "It is west of the Mountains, and home of Lord Elrond. It is known far and wide, though by another name," he added.
> 
> "Rivendell," breathed Bilbo. "We're in Rivendell."

The entire walk down into Rivendell, Bilbo's mouth gaped open and her eyes were wide and bright. It looked somehow just as she'd dreamed, and yet so very strange and far away to her. She could remember sitting in her mother's lap while Belladonna rocked and bounced her, and told her of the beautiful Elvish hall Gandalf had once brought her to, back when she was as wild and young as Bilbo. She had talked of curving columns, statues, waterfalls, and such sweet-smelling flowers that they made your heart ache as you breathed them in. And then she had pulled out a thin book, and opened it to a page where a strange, sort of a pink lily-looking flower had been preserved. Bilbo had pressed her nose into it and inhaled, and for a moment, her heart had ached and soared, and it was like there was music in her head, the music of the elves. It had been her mother's stories that had sparked such a fantastic desire to see elves! Thoughts of Rivendell that sent her dashing into the woods, certain that she could get there before tea. And now, here she was. Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, strange little Bilbo with her big dreams and adventuring habits, sweet little Bilbo from Bag End, standing on the smooth stone of the courtyard, gazing up at towers and archways, so high up that she felt faint. And then, she spied movement. Her head whipped around, and there was an elf. Bilbo's breath caught, and she was vaguely aware of her eyes glazing with tears. He was making his way down the elegantly carved stairs. He was tall, as tall as Gandalf, and his hair fell in a long curtain, sleek and the colour of chocolate. A beautiful silver circlet curved over his high forehead, and Bilbo was sure she had never seen such pale, smooth skin, standing in contrast to his dark red robes. All the dwarves were shifting and muttering and looking uncomfortable, but Bilbo stood listening to the silvery language of the elves, her heart soaring just as it had when she was young. They slipped easily into the common language.

  
  


“I must speak to Lord Elrond,” Gandalf was saying. The elf tilted his head. “My Lord Elrond is not here,” he said smoothly. Gandalf frowned. “Not here? Well then, where is he gone to?” Before the elf could respond, there was a sound of trumpets. Everyone turned to face the stone bridge, where tall, sleek horses were coming at a run. “Close ranks!” shouted Thorin, and suddenly Bilbo was being grabbed from the back and pulled into the middle of the circle by Bofur, who was looking grim, holding his weapon at the ready. Bilbo was confused. She looked around at Gandalf, who was looking rather exasperated by the dwarves. The horses came to the group and then split in their lines and prancing around the circle from both sides. After a moment, the dwarves were surrounded. Bilbo assumed these were more elves, though she couldn't see much past the heaving flanks of the horses, which were the biggest she had ever seen! If she craned her neck, she could see armour, smooth and shining in the sunlight. And above that, more of the beautiful, smooth faces, which were gazing down at the company with curiosity in their eyes. After a moment, all the horses came to a halt.

  
  


“Gandalf!” called one of the elves. His chest plate had beautiful carvings in the metal, and his burgundy cloak fluttered beautifully in the breeze. “Lord Elrond!” answered Gandalf, and then the two were speaking freely in Elvish, the Lord dismounting in such a smooth movement that Bilbo gasped. Bofur turned to look at her worriedly, then saw that which caused her reaction, and scowled. Bilbo tried to leave the circle, but Fili held out an arm, catching her. So she slid up beside him, too excited to blush at being tucked under his arm, pressed to his side. She just stared at Lord Elrond, who was so striking, and so elegant. He and Gandalf embraced in a friendly way, and then the elf turned to look over the company. “It is strange, that orcs came so close to our borders. I wonder what it was that may have drawn them there,” he said. His brow was arched, but his tone was friendly. “Hmm, what indeed,” replied Gandalf, eying the Lord cheekily. Lord Elrond smiled. And then he turned back to look at the company once more, and this time Thorin made his way out of position, to stand before the elf. Lord Elrond swept his eyes over the dwarf, and then said, “Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain.” Thorin looked up at him, his expression hard, his eyes cool. “I do not believe we've met,” he said. “You have your grandfather's bearing. I knew Thror when he ruled under the mountain,” Elrond said. Thorin's head tilted to one side, as though examining the elf. “Is that so,” he said after a moment. “Funny, he made no mention of you.” Bilbo could have kicked him, so blatantly disrespecting the elf, when it seemed as though they were hear to ask for help. She huffed, and Fili looked down at her with a small frown. For a moment it was tense as Elrond stared down at Thorin, his eyes cool and assessing. And then he lifted his head, and spoke out clearly in Elvish, his voice lilting and smooth. There was a growl from somewhere in the formation. “What is he saying?” asked Gloin. “Does he offer us an insult?” The dwarves gave a small collective growl, and readjusted their weapons. “No, Master Gloin, he is offering you _food_ ,” said Gandalf, his irritation clear. There was a pause as all the dwarves turned to mutter at each other, weighing this statement. Then Gloin cleared his throat. “Right. That should be alright, then. Lead on,” said Gloin. Gandalf turned to Elrond, and muttered something that sounded like “...stubborn brutes...”, drawing a small chuckle from the elf. And so they went up the stairs and further into Rivendell, Bilbo staring at the beautiful plants and running her fingers over the smooth, carved statues. The company was brought through the house, past a huge glorious fountain, delicate glass windows and many carved stone platforms, where elves walked and read and spoke softly in their sweet native tongue. 

  
  


After a while, they were left in a large, round room, with many short hallways feeding into it. Lord Elrond and Gandalf had already gone off to talk, so the dwarves and Bilbo turned to face the elf guiding them. “This is the largest of our receiving areas, and will be your home for as long as you are with us. Each path leads to a bedroom, and there is a large bathing hall behind that door. Feel free to make yourselves comfortable. I will come to find you when the food is ready.” And then he swept off, leaving the company to themselves. All the dwarves were muttering and grumbling, but they removed their packs, none of them going off to bedrooms. Bilbo was beginning to learn a little about the culture of dwarves, and it seemed as though they felt most comfortable sharing a space, sleeping on stone rather than beds. Bilbo didn't understand it, though she rather thought it was to do with their not liking to be very high up. It seemed they were just happiest and most comfortable when against rock. For her part, she set her pack a little separate from the group, and then slipped off to the door to the bath hall. She stepped in, and let out a low, delighted groan. The room was full of steam. There were tall, elegant screens that curved around a row of large, beautiful tubs. Already, there were pots of water heating on fires. She stepped in and saw a closet full of towels and robes, and there were curious pots and jugs of sweet-smelling soaps and oils. She grabbed a robe and a towel, and then dashed over to the nearest tub, humming cheerfully to herself. For the past few weeks, they had all just bathed in streams that they managed to stumble on, Bilbo only bathing when everyone else had finished and cleared out. She hadn't had a hot bath since Bag End. She let her hair down, combing her fingers through it till the worst of the tangles had been dealt with. She had just started removing her clothing, when she heard the door open. She spun around and saw Dori and Ori, who caught sight of her, bodice partly open, hair tumbling down to her waist. Bilbo had seen many new things on the journey, but she had yet to see a pair of dwarves reduced to blushing, stammering fools. They both gave their apologies, and then turned and ran from the room, pulling the door shut behind them. Bilbo gave a little laugh, and then stepped behind the screen, staring happily at the large tub as she peeled her clothing off. Then she filled the tub halfway, for it was much bigger than she needed a tub to be, and a moment later she was climbing in, letting out a content little moan as the hot water hit her body. For a long time she just sat in the water, not even washing herself, just luxuriating in the heat. Then she turned to a low table which had pots and jugs on it, and began smelling each of them. One smelled delicious, like mint and lemons and honey, and she poured some into her hands, before scrubbing it through her hair. She rinsed it out, feeling her hair go smooth and soft all at once. She looked at the rest of the pots, but there were too many to choose from, so she grabbed a simple bar of soap which smelled like oranges, and stood, lathering it over herself. And then she heard the door open again. She squeaked and sunk down into the frothy water. 

  
  


“Bilbo, are you in here?” she heard Bofur ask. She frowned. “Yes, I am Bofur, though I'm a little busy, presently.” He came around behind the screen and stopped, blush rising to his cheeks. From his angle, she knew that all he could see was her head and shoulders, but her shoulders were bare, and now she was blushing as well. They just froze like that, both blushing. And then he turned and left, as quickly as Dori and Ori had. Bilbo huffed, and then stood up, resuming the soaping of herself. Then she rinsed, and gave a happy little sigh, finally feeling clean again. She climbed out of the tub, and picked up the soft, fluffy white towel. Suddenly, the door opened again, though this time it opened with a bang, and someone shouted her name. A sword knocked back her screen, and Bilbo screeched, jumping back. The entire company, save Dori, Ori and Bofur, was standing in the doorway. Bilbo covered herself as best as she could with the towel, her entire body blushing an angry shade of pink. Thorin stood at the head of the group, sword raised. Behind him were Fili and Kili, who had come in with small daggers, which made pretty metallic noises as they dropped to the stone floor. Dwalin and Balin stood just behind them. Everyone else was just crowding at the doorway. The three of Durin's line stared at Bilbo with wide eyes, shocked and frozen. Balin was averting his eyes tactfully. Dwalin was not. Then a slow smile crept onto Kili's face, and he let out a low whistle. Bilbo felt her face contort with fury. She reached over, grabbing a bar of soap that smelled like almonds, and threw it at the dwarves. 

  
  


“Get OUT, you great bloody fools! What, are baths so strange a concept to dwarves that you all feel the need to come bear witness to one? Get out, and leave me alone! OUT!” she screeched. They all started scuffling and bumping into each other in their haste to leave, and she heard Bofur laughing and snorting out in the main room. She growled as she realized what had happened. “Bofur, as soon as I get out there, I am going to CUT YOU DOWN WHERE YOU STAND!” she hollered, and then the door was slammed shut. 

  
  


Bilbo calmed herself a little as she dried herself off, pulling on the robe and squeezing water out of her long hair. She was calm enough that she nearly didn't snap when there was a delicate knock at the door. Bilbo spun, eyes narrowing. “What?” she demanded. She heard a dwarf clearing his throat. “Lass, I've brought you some clean clothes. They're dwarf clothes, and meant for a lad, but they're clean and comfortable just the same.” She recognized the voice as belonging to Oin. She hadn't spoken with him much, but he seemed a nice sort. A little hard around the edges, but he was a sort of medic among the company, and he could be very gentle. Bilbo sighed. “Thank you, Oin, I appreciate it,” she called. The door opened a little, and the dwarf came in, eyes shielded til he saw she was wrapped tight in a robe. He came over to give her the clothing, but his eyes narrowed down at the bit of her legs that were visible. “What's that, then, lass?” he asked, putting the clothes on a bench and pointing to her shin. Bilbo looked down. There was a small trickle of blood sneaking down her shin. She grimaced, and then lifted the bottom of the robe a little, revealing a long scrape. “It must have happened during the fight,” she said. Oin squinted at it, and then turned and left. He returned a moment later with a small bag. “Sit yerself down, then, and give me that leg,” he instructed. Bilbo sat on a low bench and lifted her leg. He took it, and gently prodded at the skin around her wound. She hissed softly at the dull pain. He nodded, then reached into his bag. He pulled out a fistful of some sort of herb, and a long piece of bandage. He crushed up the grass in his hand, and then pressed it into Bilbo's scratch, making her grit her teeth and grunt a little. Then he bound her leg, wrapping the bandage tightly. “It doesn't look all tha' serious, we'll change the wrapping tomorrow, see how it is then,” he said loudly, packing away his things. She thanked him, and then thanked him a second time when he didn't hear her the first time, and he left the bathing room with a nod. Bilbo felt herself smile. Well, they were an odd group, but they were all sort of nice, in their odd ways. With that thought, she pulled on the shirt she had been brought. Bilbo considered it. It was a light reddish-brown in colour, and a little too big for her. She thought it may have been Ori's, as it closely resembled the shirt he'd been wearing from the start of their journey. She rolled up the sleeves, and then considered the trousers. They were a nice dark brown, and very soft and comfortable indeed. She pulled them on, wondering who they had come from, as they were both longer and slimmer than those she had borrowed from Nori. These went up high on her waist, stopping just a couple of inches below her bust. They clung a little to her sides, her rear and her thighs, where she curved more than the dwarves did, but they were rather baggy past the knees. She had to roll them up a little to stop from treading on them, but she did feel much better, washed, dried, and wearing soft, clean things. 

  
  


Bilbo stepped out of the bath hall, still rubbing a towel over her head. The dwarves looked around at her, seeming to look a little too closely at her now-clothed figure, and then there was a lot of throat clearing and pointed looking away. Bofur was staring at the fire, still grinning. Bilbo walked over and smacked him hard up the side of his head. “Oi, wha' was _tha_ ' for?” he asked indignantly. Bilbo frowned at him, and then sat beside him. “What did you do, tell them that there were orcs in the bath hall?” she asked grumpily. He gave her a toothy grin. “No, I told them tha' one of the elves had taken offense to our presence and was in there with a dagger to your throat,” he said, eyes twinkling. Bilbo fought back a smile and pointed her chin at him. “If you ever to that to me again, I will cut your throat in your sleep!” she said, giggling partway through the sentence, for it was the most vicious thing she'd ever said. He nodded, raising his hands to ward off her attack with a cheeky grin. She nodded hard with a smile, and dropped her towel out of the way to comb through her fingers through her thick, damp hair. 

  
  


Bilbo scrunched up the hair by her scalp, lifting and shifting her hair to try to dry it more quickly. She twirled her fingers through it, creating waves and curls. Her hair was half dry before she noticed that everyone had gone very still. She turned to see what was happening, and saw that a number of the dwarves were staring at her blankly, while some of the older ones still pointedly looked away. She sighed heavily. “Oh come now, surely it's not so very scarring, seeing a bathing hobbit?” she demanded, twisting her hair over her shoulder. A number of them looked away, including Bofur, who looked a little embarrassed. She frowned at them, confused. “'s not tha', lass,” Bofur muttered, but nobody explained to her, so she shrugged and leaned back, stretching her toes out to warm by the fire. The dwarves continued to stare. Bilbo ignored them. After a bit of time had passed, Bombur cleared his throat. “Ehm, Mistress Baggins?” Bilbo looked at him. “Are you plannin' on leavin' your hair like tha'?” She blinked at him. “What do you mean? I always leave my hair down first day after a washing,” she said. Some of the dwarves looked around at each other, shifting awkwardly. Gloin spoke up. “It's just tha'...” He trailed off, and Bilbo raised her eyebrows at him. Kili piped up from where he was sitting with his pipe. “Where we're from, it's considered a very, um... An intimate thing, seeing a lady with her hair down and unbraided,” he said. Bilbo frowned, confused. “There are elves with their hair down all around, you don't seem bothered by that,” she said reasonably. “Yes, but they're elves. They're tall, and strange, and cruel, and not at all dwarf-like. You're a halfling, practically a dwarf,” Kili said. Bilbo glared at him, disliking the phrase, but as she looked at the pink in his cheeks as he stared at her long, waving hair, she sighed. Then she went to her pack and pulled out a long, blue ribbon. She pulled all her hair up into a simple bun, and tied the ribbon around it. It slipped right out. Bilbo narrowed her eyes, and tried again. Her hair kept slipping back down, escaping the ribbon. She huffed. 

  
  


“Those elf soaps are slippery, my ribbon isn't holding,” she said, annoyed. “It just keeps slipping out.” Fili looked up at her. “Have you tried braiding it?” Bilbo shrugged. “Not really, no. My mum used to braid my hair for me when I was a faunt, but I never bothered learning how,” she confessed. She held out the ribbon to him. “Would you braid it for me?” she asked, taking note of the fine braids in his hair and mustache. This seemed exactly the wrong thing to say. He choked on a mouthful of smoke and looked at her, eyes watering. “What? No! No, I couldn't,” he protested. She gave him a look, and then turned to Bombur, who sat nearby. His entire beard was one long, looping braid. She held the ribbon out to him hopefully, but he scooted back a little, averting his eyes. “Oh, what now?” Bilbo demanded. “You're all clearly good at braiding, and you don't like my hair down, what's the matter?” It was Thorin who spoke up now. “Parents can braid the hair of their little'uns, till they reach a certain age. Then, the hair typically only is braided by themselves, or by... Partners,” he said, the word uneasy and smoky on his tongue. Bilbo sighed, and then shrugged. “Well, alright then.” And she sat back down by the fire, reached behind her, digging her fingers into the hair, eyes squeezed shut in concentration, trying to remember how her mother did it. She managed for a little bit, but then the hair of one section slipped loose, and the braid fell apart. She grumbled, and tried again. She tried til her arms got sore, and her frustration had her tugging hard on clumps of hair that wouldn't stay put. She let out a disgruntled little snarl, and threw the ribbon down. “No, I'm sorry, but no, it isn't working. Either you can help me, or you can deal with my hair the way it is,” she exclaimed, folding her arms firmly over her chest. There was a tense moment as the dwarves looked back and forth between one another, and then Balin gave a little sigh. “Come here, then, Mistress Baggins,” he said. He looked around at the other dwarves sternly. “I am certainly old enough to be her father, at the very least,” he said in a voice that left no room for argument. The dwarves considered this, and then each of them nodded and grumbled that it should be right and proper. Bilbo found herself once again amazed, that such a rough, rugged, and seemingly wild culture had such strict codes that they lived by. She sat down in front of Balin, and handed up her ribbon. Balin took it, and then paused, looking at her hair. He pulled out a section, seemed to weigh it in his hand, and then let it drop. He made a little hemming noise as he looked at the long hair. Bilbo looked over her shoulder at him after a moment. “Is everything okay?” she asked. Balin furrowed his brow, turning her head this way and that. “It has been an age since I last braided the hair of a lass,” he said. “I'm trying to think of styles.”

  
  


The other dwarves perked up a little at that, Fili and Kili coming to stand on either side of the old dwarf, both chewing on their pipes. “Well,” said Fili. “She is a hobbit, of course.” Nori piped up from across the room. “Aye, but she's also a burglar.” There was from the room at that. Bilbo looked around at the thoughtful expressions around the room. “Sorry? What's going on?” she asked. Bofur came to stand by her as well, looking at her head. “Well, when a dwarf braids his hair, he does so in a way tha' communicates who or wha' he is,” he explained. “It's a way to show an individual's personality.” Bilbo thought about that, looking at the unique braids that everyone sported. “So you're trying to think of a style to suit me?” she said slowly, translating so she would understand. “Aye,” said Bofur. She shrugged, and then adjusted herself to get comfortable, preparing to spend a long time sitting. Balin lifted up her hair, sectioning it away, and began twisting and braiding. Gloin leaned in to see what he was doing. “Oi, no, not like _that_ Balin, she's not a wee lass, she'd practically full grown!” he complained. Ori looked around. “She likes reading,” he suggested after a moment. “She's a bookish one.” Balin considered that, and then unbraided a section, twisting the hairs around and adding extra locks. “She's go' a fair bit of warrior in her as well, though,” added Nori. Bilbo felt him poke her head awkwardly. “Maybe lift a bit of that part, there?” he suggested. Balin altered the braid, and then Bombur shook his head. “No, no, no. Tha' looks ridiculous,” he said. “She likes cooking, and food. Try a bit o' that.” Balin did a quick twist, and then put a finger at the end of it, holding it in place. “Better,” said Dori. “Except you've made her look like my grandfather.” Balin released his hold, and Bilbo felt the hair tumble back down around her shoulders. “If you've all got so much to say, why don't you just do it yourselves?” The dwarves seemed to forget all about their customs as they faced the problem of the right braid for their burglar. Bofur started braiding hair down the sides of her face, but seemed to think better of it, and readjusted. Kili was grinning, and went behind her, threading his fingers through and twisting the hair around, til Bilbo heard someone thump her, and Oin was saying, “Kili, you'd have her walking around in the company of thirteen dwarves with her hair lookin' like _tha_ '?!” Kili backed away quickly to avoid getting hit. 

  
  


After a good half hour of fussing over her hair, Bilbo started getting restless. “Look, what if I just leave it down for now, but go into another room so you're all more comfortable?” she asked, twitching as a piece of her hair was firmly yanked. She heard a disgruntled sigh, and then movement. “All of you, get out of it,” said Dwalin, sitting behind her. “Thorin, y'best come over here, you'll know how to do the top bits.” Thorin looked up with a heavy brow, staring sternly at the warrior. There was a moment of consideration, and then he sighed heavily, throwing down the book he'd been distracting himself with. He came over with a hard expression. “What did you have in mind?” he grumbled. Dwalin lifted her hair, shaping it roughly with his hands. Thorin considered it. Then he dropped to one knee in front of her. Bilbo closed her eyes, uncomfortable with being so close to the dwarf king again. His fingers were twisting in her hair, drawing it up and back from her face. He seemed to be braiding the hair on top of her head into thick rows, twisting them down the side of her face. Where his hands left of, Dwalin's took over. His blunt fingers carefully drew back the braids already in place, and he braided them down, creating some sort of pattern. Together their hands worked, separating and twirling her hair, and Bilbo found it quite relaxing. She opened her eyes a little for fear of falling asleep, and watched Thorin instead. His dark blue eyes were focusing in on the way a braid was slipping down her face, and his fingers were dancing over her forehead. It was the most gentle she'd seen him so far. She shut her eyes again, feeling strange, and suddenly understanding how hair braiding was seen as being intimate.

  
  


A couple of final flourishes, and she was done. Dwalin took her ribbon, threading it through her final braid, and somehow secured the whole thing on. Both dwarves stepped back, and the rest of the company stepped in to look. “Aye, brother, well done. That suits her nicely,” said Balin, thumping Dwalin on the shoulder. Thorin was giving her a dark look that she didn't understand. Bofur was giving her a smile, and nodded. “Well, don't you look the proper dwarf-hobbit half-breed!” She smiled at that, and then Ori was bounding over with a mirror she recognized from the bathing room. He held it up in front of her, and she saw her reflection give a wide smile. Her hair curled up and away from her face, caught in thick, rope-like braids which swerved over and away down the back of her head. Curly, wispy tendrils of hair curled down to her collar bone, where they just brushed against her skin. She felt with light fingers the collection of braids at the back, where they jutted out. It felt like a flower. And then the last braid ended at the nape of her neck with a tightly tied ribbon, and the ends fell loose and free to just past her shoulder blades. She pulled the thick, wavy length of hair over her shoulder, and beamed at Dwalin and Thorin. “It's wonderful!” she exclaimed, but before anything else could be said, an elf glided into the room and announced that it was time to eat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The group was lead out to one of the great stone platforms, where a couple of long tables had been set up with some chairs. Elves moved around the tables with instruments, playing beautiful sweet melodies. The table was laden with food, although most of the dwarves grumbled about a lack of meat, ignoring the roasted fowl that sat in the middle of the table. Gandalf smiled at Bilbo, taking a moment to compliment her hair before going to sit with Elrond at the taller of the two tables. The meal was a strange one, eaten by the light of the setting sun. Bilbo enjoyed it, but the rest of the company kept grumbling. Ori refused to eat anything that was green. Oin was annoyed by the volume of the music. Thorin wouldn't sit down, preferring to wander around, staring at everything suspiciously. Everything felt tense and strange. Finally, rather fed up with the sweet, slow music, Bofur stood up. And then he climbed up on the table. And then he started loudly singing the sort of tune that worked best in a pub surrounded by pints of beer. The other dwarves joined in, singing and thumping and, to Bilbo's shock, throwing food around! She ducked and narrowly avoided a lump of thick, creamy mashed potatoes, which soared over her and hit a statue. The elves, for the most part, looked horrified. But at least the dwarves relaxed, and afterward things were much calmer.
> 
> At one point, Gandalf called over Thorin so that his newly acquired sword could be examined by Elrond. Lord Elrond explained that it was called Orcrist, or 'Goblin-Cleaver', and had chopped through many an enemy army. Gandalf's captured sword was likewise a mighty one, though the elf spoke of it too low for Bilbo to hear. She pulled her sword a little ways from it's scabbard, looking at it curiously. 
> 
> "I wouldn't bother, dearie," said Balin. "Swords are named for their accomplishments in battle. I doubt yours has had the honour." Bilbo frowned. "What, does it look as though it hasn't seen many battles?" she asked, looking down at the gleaming blade and the beautifully carved hilt. "Well, not many. That is to say, I don't think it's really a proper sword. Probably more of a letter opener than anything else." Bilbo frowned up at him, but he just patted her shoulder and turned back to his plate. Kili and Bofur chuckled at her from across the table.
> 
> \---------
> 
> Ta-Da! See, I know there isn't really any action, but I love writing a chapter like this one where we get to see the dwarves interacting with Bilbo, it's just such fun. Let me know if you liked it, and thank you for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The company journeys on, and Bilbo makes a hard decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The group was lead out to one of the great stone platforms, where a couple of long tables had been set up with some chairs. Elves moved around the tables with instruments, playing beautiful sweet melodies. The table was laden with food, although most of the dwarves grumbled about a lack of meat, ignoring the roasted fowl that sat in the middle of the table. Gandalf smiled at Bilbo, taking a moment to compliment her hair before going to sit with Elrond at the taller of the two tables. The meal was a strange one, eaten by the light of the setting sun. Bilbo enjoyed it, but the rest of the company kept grumbling. Ori refused to eat anything that was green. Oin was annoyed by the volume of the music. Thorin wouldn't sit down, preferring to wander around, staring at everything suspiciously. Everything felt tense and strange. Finally, rather fed up with the sweet, slow music, Bofur stood up. And then he climbed up on the table. And then he started loudly singing the sort of tune that worked best in a pub surrounded by pints of beer. The other dwarves joined in, singing and thumping and, to Bilbo's shock, throwing food around! She ducked and narrowly avoided a lump of thick, creamy mashed potatoes, which soared over her and hit a statue. The elves, for the most part, looked horrified. But at least the dwarves relaxed, and afterward things were much calmer.  
> At one point, Gandalf called over Thorin so that his newly acquired sword could be examined by Elrond. Lord Elrond explained that it was called Orcrist, or 'Goblin-Cleaver', and had chopped through many an enemy army. Gandalf's captured sword was likewise a mighty one, though the elf spoke of it too low for Bilbo to hear. She pulled her sword a little ways from it's scabbard, looking at it curiously.   
> "I wouldn't bother, dearie," said Balin. "Swords are named for their accomplishments in battle. I doubt yours has had the honour." Bilbo frowned. "What, does it look as though it hasn't seen many battles?" she asked, looking down at the gleaming blade and the beautifully carved hilt. "Well, not many. That is to say, I don't think it's really a proper sword. Probably more of a letter opener than anything else." Bilbo frowned up at him, but he just patted her shoulder and turned back to his plate. Kili and Bofur chuckled at her from across the table.

The company decided to stay the night, and perhaps longer, so they could add to their food and get a little rest before the next leg of their journey. Bilbo decided to take one of the bed chambers, pleased to find it full of pillows and blankets. It seemed best to spend a night away from the company, because to be quite frank about it, she was beginning to feel more like a dwarf than a hobbit! Some days, she could nearly convince herself that a great, fluffy beard would come tumbling out of her chin. All this after a very short period with the company! And she knew that she was still only _just_ a member of the company. The dwarves were warming to her, but for the most part, she knew she was more of a novelty. A funny little source of amusement as she got all flustered and confused. The rest of the dwarves pulled out their bedrolls in the middle of the large, common space. For a while she stayed with them, enjoying their laughter and wishing she had more to contribute. After a while, though, she decided to head off to bed. Thorin, Balin, Gandalf and Lord Elrond were off somewhere, examining the map and the runes on it, though Bilbo was not altogether certain what all the fuss was about. Confusing runes remained just that to her; confusing. So she gathered her things, and went off to one of the bedrooms. She needed to jump in order to get into the bed, and it was much bigger than she was used to, but she curled up in the middle of it, under a big, soft, white blanket, and was asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

  
  


Bilbo was awakened early the next morning by Kili running in and jumping up on the bed to shake her. She nearly swatted him off the bed for startling her, but he just put a hand on her shoulder and looked at her with big, dark, intense eyes. “Thorin says Lord Elrond is against our journey. We're leaving now before the elves can stop us.” Bilbo immediately crawled out of the bed, thankful that she hadn't bothered removing her clothing the night before, and secured her sword around her hips while Kili slid her pack onto her shoulders. She looked back at the bed longingly, not knowing when she'd next encounter such a luxury, and then the entire company departed. They moved surprisingly quickly, the dwarves. They only encountered a couple of elves on their way out, and then they were across the bridge and climbing up the side of the mountain. Thorin stopped briefly to face his company.

  
  


“Be warned, we are about to step over into the wild. Balin, you know these paths better than anyone, lead on,” he said. As the dwarves passed her, Bilbo turned to look back at Rivendell, clinging to the sight of it, not sure if she would ever get to see it again. Then Thorin's voice interrupted the moment, as he called back to her, “Mistress Baggins, I suggest you keep up.” He was giving her a hard look, and after one final glance back, Bilbo found herself once again journeying forward. When they had come around to the other side of the cliff face, Bilbo paused, eyes widening as she took in the sight before here.

  
  


_Mountains_. Huge, beautiful mountains, with snow dusting their peaks, mist swirling all around. She heard a small, happy noise behind her, and turned to see Dori, who was gazing at them. “Is that Erebor?” she asked quietly, turning back to look at the tallest and mightiest of the mountains. Dori gave a rather startled little laugh. “Why, of course not! Those are the Misty Mountains. We still have a long, dangerous trip before us,” he said. Bilbo felt her heart sink a little. She found her thoughts turning back to Bag End, her cozy hearth, her full larder, her kindly neighbours. It wasn't the first time she'd found herself missing home, and she somehow doubted that it would be the last. 

  
  


It took the company a day and a half traveling before they reached the mountains. The wind had picked up over the course of their journey, and Bilbo had pulled on her thick borrowed cloak to try to keep warm. As they began their ascent, the rain started. The group huddled in as close as they could while still moving, inching forward on a dangerously narrow path along the top of the mountain. Thunder was roaring, and pebbles kept raining down on them. Lightening was forking across the sky. Bilbo had always loved thunderstorms, with the little bursts of light and the soft, spooky rumbling of thunder while she drank tea cozily by the fire. This was not that sort of storm. Bilbo was terrified. More than once, a dwarf would step out a little too far on the ledge, and pieces would crumble away. The first time Bilbo experienced this, she stepped out, and part of the ledge broke clean off. She may well have fallen if Dwalin and Bofur hadn't grabbed her by the back of her cloak and pulled her tight against the rocky wall. “You okay, lass?” Bofur yelled, trying to be heard over the rain. Bilbo nodded mutely, her tongue huge in her mouth, her throat closed up with fear. They continued on. “WE MUST FIND SHELTER,” Thorin bellowed back to the group. Bilbo looked toward him, only just able to see the cut of him in the dark, his wet hair blowing in the sharp wind, his expression fierce and colder than the rain. Bilbo felt Dwalin tense beside her a moment before he shouted, “LOOK OUT!” She looked forward to see what he was warning against, and grabbed at Bofur's sleeve when she saw it. A boulder, easily one hundred times her size, was flying above them toward the mountain wall. It crashed, booming like the thunder, and rocks rained down on them. The dwarves pressed back against the wall, shouting as rocks beat away even more of their path. “This is no thunder storm,” she heard Balin call. “It's a thunder _battle_!” Bilbo looked up from cowering against Bofur's back, and her scream was lost in the roar of the storm. There were huge men, giants, carved from rock, attacking each other. She wouldn't have been as big as their toes. Bilbo felt faint, and there was suddenly a heavy pounding in her ears. One of the gigantic creatures was pulling a massive rock off the top of another mountain. Tearing it off, as though it were nothing harder than a piece of cloth. Bilbo heard Bofur swear softly in front of her, straightening up with a look of awe on his face. “I don't believe it, the legends are true! Stone giants!” he cried. And then the giant hurled his rock, and it went past the company. Bilbo followed it with her eyes, and gasped as it crashed into the head of a second giant! “TAKE COVER!” hollered Thorin. “HOLD ON!” bellowed Dwalin in response. Bilbo clung to the stone face behind her, blessing Dwalin and Bofur for holding on to her shoulders. There was another cracking sound, thunder snapping. But then the ground under Bilbo started moving. For a moment she feared it was the path crumbling away entirely, but after a moment it clicked in her head. It hadn't been thunder, and it wasn't the path. 

  
  


They were standing on the shins of a giant.

  
  


And the giant was standing up.

  
  


Bilbo panicked, so much so that a part of her brain shut off. She was passingly aware of being swept up higher into the air, of the dwarves calling out to each other, Fili reaching out to try to grab Kili. But everything seemed to happen very, very slowly. The giant standing up, only to get a hard hit in it's rocky head by another giant. And then, they were all falling with the giant. Falling toward the rock of a mountain. There was a wide ledge quickly coming up to meet them, but there was no way they could all fit! And then Dwalin screaming to everyone to get ready to jump. And so, when the time came, Bilbo jumped, just a moment too late, her hands grabbing onto the ledge. She gripped tight, ready to pull herself up, but then the horrible giant was falling, falling so far down. Bilbo felt the support under her feet fall away, and then she was holding on for dear life, the shock clouding her mind so much that she couldn't find the voice to scream. She was dully aware of the dwarves calling to each other, relieved to be reunited with peers and brothers. And then she heard Bofur's voice calling her name, and the dwarves all shouting. She gazed up into thirteen, horrified faces. One of her wet, slippery hands fell away from the rock, and her feet scrabbled desperately at the rock, trying to find a hold. Bofur, Ori and Fili were all stomach down on the ledge, reaching to her, all of them screaming at her to hold on, Bofur telling her to grab his hand. She tried, but her slippery fingers fell short. Then, a figure swung into view. Thorin lowered himself off of the ledge and somehow swept to her side, one arm holding on to the ledge, the other hooking under her backside. She looked at him with wide, terrified eyes, and he yelled at her to pull. She pulled up with her arm, and he lifted her up, and then hands were grabbing at her shirt and her shoulders. Arms wrapped tight around her and pulled her away from the edge. She was safe. She didn't realize she was crying until Bofur started rocking her, murmuring “It's okay lass, I've got you, it's okay,” over and over again. Bilbo heard a commotion, saw Dwalin bending over the side of the ledge, and then he was pulling Thorin back up to safety. Everyone was panting. She felt a hand landing on top of her head, and looked up into Dwalin's eyes. “I thought for a moment we'd lost our burglar” he said. Thorin stood up, anger blazing in his eyes as he looked down at her. “She has been lost since she left home,” he spat. “She should never have come. A halfling has no place among us.” Bofur squeezed her tighter, as though just holding her would be enough to keep Thorin's words at bay, but it was as though something in her brain had stopped functioning. She stared blankly at the dwarf king as he called Dwalin to go search in a cave to make sure it was habitable. She stopped crying, a hollow feeling taking over. 

  
  


A few minutes later, they were all in a cave, away from the rain. Dwalin declared it safe, and they all started settling in for the night. The wind and the rain had eased off, and the inside of the cave was warm enough, even without a fire, for Thorin had said there was to be no fire. He commanded that everyone rest, and so they all lay down, most not even bothering with their bedrolls. Bilbo lay against the wall of the cave, eyes still open, energy coursing through her. Thorin's words kept echoing in her mind, his tone getting harsher each time she remembered it. After about fifteen minutes, the exhausted dwarves were all asleep, and Bilbo sat up. She was out of place with all these dwarves. She cared about them, but she was a hobbit. She had small hands, meant for baking and gardening. Big feet, made for walking through grassy hills. And her body was soft and rounded, not hard and strong. She wasn't built to adventure. She had no place among the dwarves. And now she had almost gotten their leader killed as he tried to save her. She was a hindrance, and she would only ever slow them down. With that thought spinning around in her head, she silently stepped over the sleeping dwarves, making for the mouth of the cave. 

  
  


“Where do you think you're going?” she heard behind her. She turned to see Bofur, who had been keeping watch. She looked around, the nest of sleeping dwarves, and Thorin sleeping a little away from everyone, back to the wall, arms crossed defensively in sleep. Bilbo sighed heavily. “I'm going back to Rivendell,” she said in a small voice, staring at her toes. “No, no!” Bofur muttered, rising and moving to stand in front of her, between her and the way out. “You can't turn back, Bilbo. You're part of the company, you're one of us now!” he said. She looked into his frantic eyes, and felt something tighten in her chest. She sniffed, her skin feeling hot and prickly. “I'm not one of you, though, am I?” she said. It wasn't a question. “Thorin said that I shouldn't have come, he's been saying that since that very first night! And I think he was right, I mean, I get in the way, and I- I'm a Baggins. I don't know what I was thinking, coming along. I should never have left home.” “No, Bilbo, you're homesick, I understand, but-” Bilbo didn't let him finish, shaking her head and gritting her teeth. “No, you don't understand, none of you do! You're used to all of this! All this traveling, not settling, going where the wind takes you. You don't know what it's like, being the odd one out, because it's not like you have one place you belong in!” The words came out before she could think of what she was saying, and then Bofur was gazing at her sadly. Her eyes felt wet. “Oh Bofur, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean that,” she said quietly. “No, you're righ',” he said. “We don' belong anywhere.” Bilbo stared at the ground, finding she couldn't take it, the hard, sad expression on Bofur's face, usually so merry and happy a face. He tilted her chin up, and then settled his hands on her shoulders. “I wish you all the luck in the world, Bilbo. I really do,” he said, voice thickened with emotion. Bilbo couldn't help it, she stepped in close and wrapped her arms around his waist, planting her face into his shoulder. “I will miss you, Bofur,” she mumbled. He gave a low chuckle, and hugged her back. “And I you, lass. It won' nearly be the same withou' you.” She leaned back and kissed him lightly on the cheek, then turned, taking a deep breath, ready to go. But his voice stopped her. “Wha's that?” he asked, curious, pointing to her hip. Bilbo looked down. Something was shining, a soft, blue light in the darkness. Her sword. She slowly pulled it from her sheath. The blade was shining, blue as the sky on a sunny day. “Oh, no,” she said, and looked up at Bofur, fear in her eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suddenly, she heard a flurry of movement. She looked over and saw Thorin standing where he had been asleep moments before. “Everyone, up!” he commanded, hand on his sword. “Wake up, UP!” The dwarves started, and began standing, drawing their weapons. Bilbo became aware of a hissing sound, like snakes, she looked around wildly. But there were no serpents to worry about, no, somewhere nearby there were goblins or orcs. She turned to the entrance, expecting them to come pouring in, weapons slicing and chopping. But she felt the ground below her give a tremble. Bilbo looked down. The hissing noise was sand, the sand of the cave floor suddenly draining away through a long crack that was appearing. Bilbo looked up toward Bofur, who stared at her with wide eyes. And then, the ground opened beneath them, and they fell.
> 
> \--------
> 
> Can I get an "Oh, shit!"? 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this one, let me know what you think! Thank you for reading, and thanks for all the kind feedback I've been getting. :}


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo makes a discovery, and meets the creature known as Gollum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suddenly, she heard a flurry of movement. She looked over and saw Thorin standing where he had been asleep moments before. “Everyone, up!” he commanded, hand on his sword. “Wake up, UP!” The dwarves started, and began standing, drawing their weapons. Bilbo became aware of a hissing sound, like snakes, she looked around wildly. But there were no serpents to worry about, no, somewhere nearby there were goblins or orcs. She turned to the entrance, expecting them to come pouring in, weapons slicing and chopping. But she felt the ground below her give a tremble. Bilbo looked down. The hissing noise was sand, the sand of the cave floor suddenly draining away through a long crack that was appearing. Bilbo looked up toward Bofur, who stared at her with wide eyes. And then, the ground opened beneath them, and they fell.

They fell into a deep hole with a steep sloping tunnel at the base of it, and slid down the smooth rock. The dwarves were shouting angrily. Bilbo was screaming bloody murder. Not entirely out of fear, although she was afraid. She screamed out in anger, true, flaming rage. 'It isn't fair! Not fair that my dwarves keep getting beaten down and battered by threat after threat, what can it be _now_ , are we to be impaled by orcs or eaten by goblins?' And before she could take any time to think about the fact that she had just thought of them as 'her dwarves', they all fell in an arc through open air, and landed in a heap. Bilbo landed on top of Bombur, bouncing a little on top of his stomach, and then Nori landed on her, making her squawk. Suddenly, they were surrounded. They had landed in a sort of large, wooden basket one one end open, and down at the open end were goblins, more goblins than Bilbo knew what to do with. They were all snarling and making the most horrid noises, reaching in with their long, sharp fingers and dragging dwarves out. Some of the goblins were thrown off the path they stood on and down into the shadowy depths, but soon the entire company was being jostled and pulled into the darkness. Bilbo looked at Nori, terrified. He met her eyes. And then, suddenly, she tripped. Years later Bilbo still wouldn't know for certain if she had simply fallen over a large rock or if Nori himself had tripped her down, but a moment later, the goblins were walking around her, not seeing her, and then Bilbo was alone.

  
  


Bilbo was very still for a moment, then chanced a peek, lifting her head and listening. No, they had all gone. She was really alone, curled up on the rocky path. There was a trail now going down the path, a trail of items that had fallen or been taken from the company. Bilbo thought she could see Ori's book laying up ahead. She looked all around her. There was a voice in her mind, a very Baggins-y sounding voice, whispering that now would be a good time to leave. To find her way back up to the top, go to Rivendell, get out of this dratted mess. She cringed guiltily at the thought. 'Alright, well, when you find the elves, you could get help, get an army to go searching for the dwarves, and anyway, if you had left when you meant to, this would have happened anyway, it's hardly your fault!' A soft, Tookish voice answered. 'If you leave them outnumbered by goblins, they could very well die. All of them. Bofur, Fili, Kili, Ori, Dwalin, Thorin, Balin... All of them.' Her mind produced an image of the line of Durin, dead, on top of the mutilated corpses of the rest of the company, and she imagined Smaug laughing in the distance, his terrifying claim on Erebor unquestioned. She frowned heavily at the thought. 'Well, Bilbo Baggins,' she thought to herself. 'You can't go back the way you came, you'll just have to go forward. Help or hindrance, I came in with the dwarves, and dash it all I'll leave with them too!' And with that thought, she made herself stand, and crept forward. Along the way, she gathered her friends' belongings. Ori's book, Bombur's soup spoon, a pipe that looked like Bofur's... She froze. At the edge of the path, almost disappearing down it, was the key Gandalf had given Thorin. The key to Erebor. The heavy gold chain was pooled around it, and it shone dully in the light of a torch. Bilbo's jaw clenched. She would not be able to live with herself if she left it, although she feared straying so far from the shadows cast by the rocky ledges and pathways. She took a deep breath, and darted out, grabbing it and pulling it over her head, rather than jamming it into her pack with the rest of the items. They would do fine without the pipe or the book, but without the key, they had nothing.

  
  


There was a harsh shriek from above, and Bilbo spun in alarm. A goblin had spotted her from a higher path. It jumped down, landing in front of her, a long, wicked looking blade in it's hand. Bilbo drew her sword, heart thudding, and tried to remember the day of training with Nori. When the goblin lunged, she danced away. When it spun with a snarl, she swiped at it with her sword. When it swiped back with it's own blade, she leapt over it. She frantically tried to keep a rhythm in her head, as Dwalin had told her, weaving and bobbing, grinding her teeth each time the shrewish beast avoided the bite of her blade. Then suddenly, it threw down it's weapon and jumped at her. She sidestepped it, and the goblin flew out past the ledge, but at the last moment, it twisted, grabbing Bilbo's cloak and yanking with all it could. Bilbo found herself falling, again! Down into the darkness, clinging desperately to her sword and her pack. She bounced painfully off of a wall, and down into a shadowy crevice, where she landed in something soft and squashy. A moment later, there was another thud, but Bilbo had her eyes squeezed shut, trying to block out the pain and the fear. 

  
  


A few minutes after the drop, she heard a noise. Not a goblin noise either, a shrill, sharp noise. It sounded like humming. Bilbo opened her eyes and realized that she had fallen into a patch of huge, monstrous looking mushrooms! She rolled onto her stomach, keeping low and out of sight, and looked around. She was in a dark, dank stone cavern. The goblin lay unconscious, and even from her spot she could see that his arm was badly broken. And the humming was getting closer. Suddenly, from a passage out that she hadn't noticed with all the dark, a pair of eyes gleamed. They were huge, blue, and looked dead. A thin, pale, sickly creature was approaching. Bilbo felt her mouth curve in pity and disgust when he stepped properly into the light. His skin was pale grey and mottled, and she could see each of his bones. There were thin hairs dangling from the top of his head. He wore nothing but a piece of ratty leather which was tied around his hips. When the odd creature spotted the goblin, his eyes brightened gleefully. He started jumping over and around the goblin, inspecting it, occasionally giving a high-pitched cry of, “Yes! YES!” He began clearing his throat and coughing miserably, making the most alarming sound, a throaty sort of hacking sound that sounded like 'gollum, gollem'. The creature grabbed the goblin by the ankles and began dragging it away. The goblin stirred, making an angry, frightened noise, and the hunched little creature casually picked up a rock and began beating it's head in, making the most terrible, dull squashing sound. Bilbo had to look away, feeling nauseated by the sight. When the goblin was well and truly dead, the thing took it by the ankles again, and with a keening sort of grunt of “Nasty, nasty... Nasty goblinses!” it dragged the corpse away, muttering as it went. Bilbo stumbled out of the mushrooms, on her hands and knees, trying to find her sword. She found it at last, the blue light spluttering out as the wretched goblin died. As she crawled over to her weapon, she put her hand down hard on something round and cold, digging into the heel of her palm. Bilbo lifted her hand, the cold, round bit of metal sticking to her hand. She squinted down at it. It was a golden ring. A simple band. She turned it this way and that with her fingers, frowning. Had a dwarf dropped it? Had it belonged to the goblin, or to the creeping hunched little beast with the rasp in his throat? With a shrug, she popped it into a small pocket up by the waist of her trousers. Then she grabbed her sword, and walked cautiously toward the passage. 

  
  


Bilbo could still hear the sharp mutterings and the dragging noises and the hard coughing of the creature, and she followed it, hoping to find a way back to the dwarves. Then it went silent, though there was an odd splashing noise, which confused her. She came at last to the end of the passage, and looked around through narrowed eyes. It was a cave, with a large, smooth, glassy lake. She could see a large rock sticking up from the middle of the water. Bilbo could just make out the corpse laying on the rock, but where was the creature? She crept in further, almost silent save for when she kicked a pebble and it rolled into the water. She held her breath, but a raspy, heavy breathing began echoing throughout the cavern. She looked around, turning this way and that, till she looked behind, and found those huge, luminous eyes less than a foot from her face. 

  
  


Bilbo jumped back, raising her sword. The creature stepped forward, unblinking. “Ooo, it splishes and splashes, such a meaty mouthful, precious!” Bilbo's eyes widened, and she lifted the point of her sword to poke at the throat of the awful little beast. “Keep away!” she demanded, trying to sound strong, like Thorin. “Step back! I'm not afraid to use this thing!” The creature recoiled, making that coughing, 'gollum, chollum' sound again. “What is it that pokes us, precious? What is it?” it muttered. Bilbo didn't know who he was talking to, but she drew herself up. “I'm Bilbo Baggins, from Under the Hill!” she said. The creature frowned. “Bagginses? What is a Bagginses?” it asked. Bilbo frowned. “I'm a- I'm a hobbit,” she said. Another round of coughing and hacking and gollum-ing, and Bilbo began calling the wasted creature 'Gollum' in her mind. Gollum looked excited. “Ooo, _hobbitses_! We've tried goblinses and fishies and orcses and dwarvsies and toades, but _never_ hobbitses-” it advanced again, and this time Bilbo pointed the blade at his chest. Gollum stopped, his face contorting and a dreadful scream ripping from him. “Stay back!” she insisted. “Just tell me how to get out of this place, and I'll be on my way.” “Why, is it lost?” Gollum asked in a voice that gave Bilbo chills. “Yes, I am lost,” she replied uneasily. Gollum suddenly perked up, eyes wide, although he wasn't looking at her. “Ooo, we know the way! We knows a safe way for hobbitses, precious! Safe passages in the dark! SHUT UP.” Bilbo frowned. “I didn't say anything.” Gollum turned to her. “We wasn't talking to _you_. Oh, well, yes, precious, yes we was...” Bilbo was sort of starting to understand, she thought. She was reminded of little faunts with imaginary friends, giggling with them, yelling at them, blaming their wickedness on them. She shook her head. “Look, I don't have time for this, so just stop with your games, and-” Gollum was suddenly up in her face. “Games? _Games_? Oh, we LOVE games, don't we precious! Does Bagginses? Does it love games? Does it like to play?” Bilbo frowned, squinting at him. “Well, I- Yes, I like games, but-” Gollum cut her off, waving his hands and smacking his lips.

  
  


“What is it has roots as no one sees,

Is taller than trees, 

Up, up it goes, 

And yet never grows?”

  
  


Bilbo blinked at him. “Well, that's a mountain,” she said, and Gollum rolled his head around in glee, clapping his skeletal hands. Then one hand came across his face. Bilbo stared in horror as Gollum suddenly slapped himself, and started beating his own head with his little fists. “NO, no riddleses, no games, it's time for Bagginses to _go_...” Gollum started slinking towards her, eyes wide and pale. “Time to go the way of the bats and the rats and the goblinses...” Bilbo backed up, and waved her sword around in a panic. “No, no, it's not time for that, it's time to play! I'd like to play!” Gollum stopped, and his eyes brightened. “How about we play a game of riddles?” said Bilbo, thinking quickly. “Here are the rules. We play til one of us can't answer the riddle. If I win, you show me the way out. Deal?” Gollum looked excited, and then his face darkened quickly. “And if we win?” The bright, childlike look came back over him. “Well, if we wins, then we eats it, precious!” He turned to look at Bilbo. “If we wins, we eat Bagginses whole,” he said, nodding with a smile. Bilbo looked at him, eye twitching and mouth curving down a little. Then she shook herself, remembering that she was armed and he was not. “Okay, fair enough,” she said, and then stood, sliding her sword back into the scabbard. 

  
  


And so they played. They bounced riddles off of each other, and slung back answers in turn. Gollum got more twitchy and irritated every time Bilbo got an answer right, but Bilbo found herself enjoying it in an odd way. It had been a long time since her last game of riddles, and she was very good at it, and there is a certain joy to be found in being good at something that is helping you stay alive. But at last, Gollum got fed up. “Alright, Bagginses, you gets one more question. Asks it, and if we gets it right, we win and you loses.” Bilbo swallowed hard, her brow furrowing. She found herself drawing a blank. “Hold on a minute,” she said, and then walked away over to the edge of the water, scouring her brain for a riddle hard enough to win her life with. She patted at her hips distractedly, and was surprised when she felt a little lump in her pocket. She frowned, feeling out the shape, trying to remember when she had last used the pocket. She had no memory of ever using it! So, then... “What have I got in my pocket?” she murmured softly, trying to search back with her mind. Bilbo didn't realize that she had said it out loud until she heard a great angry coughing from behind her. “What? No! It isn't fair, Bagginses isn't fair, precious!” Bilbo whirled around, inspired, pointing at Gollum. “Oh, yes it is! You told me to ask you a question, you said it! That is my question! What do I have in my pocket?” Gollum slapped angrily at the rocks, and gave an odd little screech of frustration. “We gets three guesses, three, precious! We must gets three!” Bilbo shrugged, feeling a little cocky. “Alright, you can have three guesses.” Gollum crawled around on his hands and knees, thinking hard. “Hands!” he said, but Bilbo raised both of them. “No, wrong! Two guesses!” Gollum screeched, muttering to himself and slapping at a boulder. “A sword! NO, precious, no _swordses_ -” “Oh, too late, that counts! You have one guess left!” She stared at him in anticipation as he leapt around, beating at the rocks, the water, and his head. “String! String or nothing!” he said at last. Bilbo grinned, success bubbling up inside of her. “Technically that was two guesses, but no matter, they were both wrong! Come on now Gollum, show me the way out.” 

  
  


Gollum froze at the sound of her name for him. And then turned from his tantrum to look at her, a feral gleam in his eyes. Bilbo swallowed. “Now come on, you said you'd show me the way out,” she said. Gollum bared his teeth. “Did we say, precious? Did we? What has it got in it's pockets?” Bilbo frowned, finally remembering the gold ring she had stumbled on. “That's not any of your business,” she said. Gollum was creeping toward her on all fours. “Isn't it, precious? Should we show the Bagginses what we has in our pockets, precious?” He reached back into his leather, and then stilled, a look of panic clear on his face. And then Gollum was shrieking, scrabbling around in the pebbles and the water, his high voice almost unintelligible. “LOST! LOST! WHERE HAS IT GONE, PRECIOUS, WHERE _IS_ IT?!” Bilbo jumped away from him, frightened and confused. “What's gone?” she asked. Gollum straightened, and then whirled about, fire in his big, dead eyes. “ _WHAT HAS IT GOT IN IT'S POCKETS?”_ he screeched. Bilbo didn't even try to reason with him, she ran. She ran as fast as she could, dancing around tall rocks. She ran away from the shrieking and the screaming, as Gollum ran after her, cursing her and demanding she return his precious. Bilbo ran til she hit a dead end. She made a high pitched sound of panic. Desperate, and hearing Gollum coming up behind her, she pulled out the ring, and before she thought about why she was doing it, she slipped it onto her finger.

  
  


The world went grey and hazy. Everything blurred. Gollum rounded the corner, saw the dead end, stared straight at Bilbo, and then screamed, pounding his fists angrily. “Where is it, precious? Where is the thief? The filthy, stinking thief!” Bilbo opened her mouth, startled. He didn't seem able to see her! She froze. “It gots our precious!” Gollum wailed. “Bagginses! Bagginses escaped! We must find the precious, we must take it back!” and then he was running. Bilbo didn't even hesitate, she took off after him, running as quietly as a hobbit could. They ran through tunnels, around tight corners, Bilbo always just a little too far behind him. At last, the miserable creature stopped. Bilbo almost sang and cried for joy, for she could see a passage crossing before them, and sunlight shining at the end! Gollum stopped, ducking behind a rock as a ruckus reached his ears. And now Bilbo did tear up, because there was Gandalf! And the dwarves, her dwarves! She counted them as they went, they were all there, nobody was dead or maimed at all! Bilbo almost called out to them, but Gollum was in front of her, blocking her way. Although she was invisible, he would likely still be able to hear her, and she didn't want to think about what he would do if he found her. And so she watched, silently and helplessly, as her company fled the mountain without her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo stood in the shadows, mind racing. She couldn't wait for Gollum to just leave. What if he didn't leave for ages and she missed the dwarves completely? Or what if he did leave, but brushed against her in the tight passage? No, there was nothing for it, she had to get past him. But how? She thought desperately, and a small voice hissed in the back of her head. A voice she didn't recognize as being Baggins-y or Tookish. A voice she didn't recognize at all.
> 
> 'You could kill him. End him, so he'll never bother you or anybody else again. Look at him, practically begging for death.' Bilbo looked at Gollum, her sword somehow already raised and inches from his throat. But then he turned. He turned to look back the way he came, and his big blue eyes were wet with tears, his chin wibbling sadly. Bilbo froze, and Gandalf's voice seemed to echo loudly in her mind. 'True courage is not taking a life, it is knowing when to spare one.' Bilbo clenched her jaw, and slid her sword back into the sheath. It made a slippery noise, and Gollum straightened, looking straight at her. Bilbo grinned, and there was a definite Tookish gleam in her eye now. She forgot to be cautious. Who thinks of cautiousness when there are dwarves to chase? She let out a low, long whistle. Gollum screeched, and then lunged forward into the shadows, toward Bilbo. Bilbo ran straight at him, and jumped as high as she could as he ducked down to scrabble in the dirt, searching for big, furry toes. She felt his fingers brushing at the back of her cloak, and heard as he gave a final scream, cursing her name forever, but none of it mattered to her. Bilbo turned down the path her dwarves had run down moments before, bursting out into the sunshine. She was free of the creature now.
> 
> \---------
> 
> This is a rare, two-chapter day! I'm liking going at a chapter-a-day pace, but I thought I'd put this one out early, as I'm going away for a short birthday trip tonight. I hope you liked it, thanks for reading!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The company flees, and Bilbo proves herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo stood in the shadows, mind racing. She couldn't wait for Gollum to just leave. What if he didn't leave for ages and she missed the dwarves completely? Or what if he did leave, but brushed against her in the tight passage? No, there was nothing for it, she had to get past him. But how? She thought desperately, and a small voice hissed in the back of her head. A voice she didn't recognize as being Baggins-y or Tookish. A voice she didn't recognize at all.  
> 'You could kill him. End him, so he'll never bother you or anybody else again. Look at him, practically begging for death.' Bilbo looked at Gollum, her sword somehow already raised and inches from his throat. But then he turned. He turned to look back the way he came, and his big blue eyes were wet with tears, his chin wibbling sadly. Bilbo froze, and Gandalf's voice seemed to echo loudly in her mind. 'True courage is not taking a life, it is knowing when to spare one.' Bilbo clenched her jaw, and slid her sword back into the sheath. It made a slippery noise, and Gollum straightened, looking straight at her. Bilbo grinned, and there was a definite Tookish gleam in her eye now. She forgot to be cautious. Who thinks of cautiousness when there are dwarves to chase? She let out a low, long whistle. Gollum screeched, and then lunged forward into the shadows, toward Bilbo. Bilbo ran straight at him, and jumped as high as she could as he ducked down to scrabble in the dirt, searching for big, furry toes. She felt his fingers brushing at the back of her cloak, and heard as he gave a final scream, cursing her name forever, but none of it mattered to her. Bilbo turned down the path her dwarves had run down moments before, bursting out into the sunshine. She was free of the creature now.

Bilbo ran down the path that curves over the side of the hill. She could have screamed and laughed for joy, feeling ecstatic in the sun and the breeze. She couldn't rightly tell how long she had wandered through that clammy cave, but it felt like ages since she'd breathed in good, clean air. She stumbled now and then, occasionally having to slow for fear of propelling herself so far that she'd start tumbling. But she was reluctant to stop to get her bearings, somehow feeling as though she would be in danger til she found the rest of the company. The rocky hillside slid into a tall forest, the trees tall and thick, dappling the sunlight. Bilbo was reminded of that spring morning that seemed so long ago. Here she was, chasing after the dwarves again. She ran and ran, beginning to worry that she may never find them in the woods.

  
  


However, luckily, just as her legs were beginning to thicken and ache with beneath her, Bilbo heard rustlings and mutterings up ahead. She slowed her running, winding in and out around trunks till she could just see a grey cloak and a long beard. Gandalf was counting the dwarves, reciting names as he saw the faces attached to them. As Bilbo approached, he gave a startled cry. “Where is our burglar? Where is Bilbo?” Fili and Kili began looking around, calling for her, and Bofur looked dreadfully pale as he ran a hand over his braids. A slight panic ensued.

  
  


“Yes, our hobbit, where is our hobbit?”

  
  


“Bilbo? BILBO!”

  
  


“Don't look at me, last I saw Dori had her!”

  
  


“Oh now really, am I the hobbit-watcher? What, should I have carried her on my back the entire way?” All through the shouting, Bifur was ranting away in Khuzdul, having a bit of a fit, and Gloin was swearing rather loudly, occasionally pulling his beard and shouting into his brother's ear trumpet. “Come now, when did you last see her?” demanded Gandalf. “I think I saw her slip away when they first cornered us,” said Nori. Now, as this was happening, Bilbo stood by a tree, just to the side of the group. She meant to reply, and opened her mouth to many times. But she was still invisible, and she was finding it very hard to catch her breath, the fresh air having a dizzying effect. Still, she stepped behind a tree so she might reveal herself without causing a great commotion in suddenly appearing among them. She was about to pull the ring off when she heard Thorin's voice from a few feet to her left. 

  
  


“I'll tell you what happened to the halfling,” he said. “It is as I have been saying all along, she had no place among us, as she was well aware. She has been grumbling about her soft bed and her easy life from the moment we left. She saw an opportunity to abandon us, and she took it! We will not see our hobbit again, she's long gone.” The silence that followed his hard words stretched on for a long time. Bilbo suddenly felt cold and empty again, just as she had on top of the mountain as Bofur had rocked her after her near-fall. And once again, Thorin was the reason. Bilbo shook her head sadly, and considered her options. The dwarf wanted her gone. He truly believed she was no help to them. 'Maybe... Maybe I should leave. Leave them to go on without me. Try to find my way back to Rivendell, stay with the elves for a while longer!' But the thought of Rivendell no longer brought her joy, and Thorin's key weighed heavily between her breasts. And so she pulled the ring from her finger, slipped it into her trouser pocket, and stepped into view, with a quiet, “No, actually, she is not.” The dwarves all spun to look at her, some of them giving little shouts of surprise. “Bilbo Baggins! Oh, my dear hobbit, I have never been so glad to see someone in my life,” said Gandalf, striding over and grasping her hands, eyes skimming over her to check for injuries. “Mistress Baggins!” cried Kili. “We were certain we'd lost you!” “How did you escape the mountain?” asked Fili, staring at her in bewilderment. Bilbo chuckled at the look on his face and gave a little shrug, not yet certain of how she would explain. Gandalf was giving her an odd look. “Well, it matters not how she did it, just that she is safely back,” he said. He gave her a little smile. 

  
  


“It matters,” said Thorin. He had been staring at her the entire time, looking caught between confusion that she was there, and a sort of gladness that she was unharmed. “Why did you come back?” he asked, not used to his judge of character being proven wrong. Bilbo stared at him for a long while, eyes a little cool, smile fading. “Look,” she began after a moment. “I know that you doubt me. I know that you've been doubting me all along, been waiting for me to break my contract and my word. I bet you've been hoping for it a little. But it isn't going to happen.” She took a deep breath. “You're right, I often dream of Bag End. I miss my books, and my garden, and my fine dresses. I miss feeling welcomed by those around me. The Shire, see, that's where I belong. That's my home. And that is why I came back, because- Well, you don't have one, your home was stolen from you. I would very much like to help you get it back, if I can.” Bilbo finished talking, and looked around at the dwarves, and they looked at her. Gloin had his chest puffed out a little, looking very proud indeed. Balin was smiling at the ground, head nodding a little. Dwalin was gazing at her almost warmly. Thorin was looking at her, lips parted, expression surprised. Bofur clapped his hands once, a big smile on his face. Ori had that look a person gets when they are moved deeply, but are trying to resist the tears. Bilbo's mind caught up to the rest of her, and she pulled off her pack, moving toward the sweet little dwarf. She opened it, and pulled out his book, passing it to him. His big eyes became very round indeed, and he took it quickly, hugging it to his chest. Then she went to Bombur, handing him his soup ladle, which he took with a nod of thanks. And then it was over to Bofur, and she held the pipe out to him. He clapped her hard on the shoulders, and pulled her in for a quick little hug before taking it. Fili and Kili popped up on either side of her, and both hugged her at the same time. “We will have to keep better watch over our hobbit, Fili,” said Kili. “It would be horrible if she lost us again.” Fili nodded. “Yes, brother, a great tragedy indeed.” Bilbo laughed, feeling the tension ease as the dwarves began milling around the small clearing, some giving suspicious looks to the berry bushes and sparse mushroom patches, others going to check on their brothers or cousins. As Nori approached her with a small smile, Bilbo took his hands, staring into his eyes. “Master Nori, I must say, I would like another lesson in fighting soon. It helped a great deal when I was back in that cave, but I daresay more training will be essential.” He nodded, and then grabbed her shoulders, bringing her in close and lightly knocking his head against hers. “As my hobbit commands,” he said with a wry grin.

  
  


After a short while, Bilbo approached Thorin. He was speaking in a low voice to Dwalin. The tattooed dwarf smiled down at her, and clapped her on the shoulder. “It is a lucky thing indeed that you were not killed back in those caves,” he said in form of greeting. Bilbo grinned. “It is good to see you too, Dwalin,” she answered, her voice warm with affection. Then Balin called to his brother, and with a nod to both Bilbo and Thorin, he was away. Bilbo turned to Thorin, who was looking at her again. “You know, my father always used to tell me that it was rude to stare at people, as it tends to make them uncomfortable,” she said after a moment. He blinked at her, and tilted his head. “So you have come to scold me again, Mistress Baggins?” he asked in a low voice. Bilbo smiled a little at that. “No, Thorin, I have come to return a precious thing to a careless dwarf,” she replied, pulling the gold chain over her head, bringing the key up from it's safe spot against her ribcage. Thorin looked taken aback, and clapped a hand to the back of his neck, as though looking for confirmation that the key in the hobbit's hand was truly his. Bilbo sighed and stood up on her tip-toes to slip the chain over his head, an action which he dodged with narrowed eyes. She huffed. “Well you needn't glare at me, it's hardly my fault that you dropped it,” she said, pressing the key to his chest. He frowned a little, and opened his mouth to speak, when there was suddenly a great howling through the trees. Bilbo spun around, eyes scanning the woods. Kili had already swung up into a tree, and was staring up the mountain. “Orc pack!” he shouted. “Run!” Gandalf shouted back. Bilbo felt Thorin's large hand wrap around her wrist, and he pulled her hard, echoing the cue to flee. She was slow to start, pulling her pack back on and slipping the chain back over her head, but then she was running full tilt. It is a testament to how much braver she had become that as well as fear, she felt shock and exasperation. “Brilliant!” she exclaimed. “Free from goblins, only to be chased down by orcs!” “Yes, we are rather out of the frying pan and into the fire,” Gandalf called back. “And do try to keep up, Bilbo!” 

  
  


They ran for hours, leaping over rocks, trying to move as silently as possible, but the dwarves had heavy feet, and they had such loud, puffing breaths that they were easily tracked. The snapping and growling seemed mere inches behind them. Bilbo gave a startled cry as she saw the woods open a little ways ahead of them, showing that they were quickly approaching the edge of a cliff. “Up the trees, quickly!” shouted Gandalf. But in their moment of pause, the fastest of the wargs came upon them. One jumped clear over Bilbo's head, and she gave a small shriek of alarm, quickly drawing her sword. She thought back to Gollum, wondering if threatening the creature would be enough to make it leave her alone, but as it happened she didn't even have time to open her mouth. The warg, mouth frothing and snapping, ran at her, and impaled itself on her blade. Bilbo felt the moment that her sword made contact, and then the small jolt as it popped into the skin, sliding cleanly into the flesh. It was rather surprisingly like cutting into a particularly thick side of raw beef. She felt ill and dizzy. Then Thorin was at her side, cutting a second warg down, and shouting at her to get into a tree. She pulled on her hilt, but it was stuck firmly in the cooling warg. She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to think of cutting a steak, and then put a foot on the head of the beast, wiggled her blade, and pulled hard. Out it popped. She looked around, and saw that the dwarves had left her behind and were already climbing into the higher branches. She jumped at a low branch, but was simply too short to reach it! “SOMEBODY GET THE HALFLING!” she heard Thorin roar. Then Dori was at her side. He pulled her over to the closest tree as she slid her sword back into the scabbard. “Dwalin, catch!” Dori cried, and then he grabbed Bilbo around the waist, and threw her high up into the tree! Bilbo's mouth dropped open in shock, and she was quite certain that she would fall right back to the ground and land in an angry, chomping mouth. But then Dwalin caught her with a strong arm around her hips, and he tossed her onto his shoulder and continued climbing till the branches began to thin and creak under his weight. Only then did he release her, nodding at Dori as he climbed up beside him. It wasn't a moment too soon either, for when Bilbo looked back down, she saw orcs and wargs slinking around the trunks, growling up at the dwarves.

  
  


Within moments, they were surrounded. The growling and snarling sounded like rough, horrible voices, singing and laughing about the misfortune of the company. And then there was a rustling in the bushes, and a huge, white warg stepped forward, a great, equally as white orc sitting on it's back. There were roars of anger and dismay from a number of the dwarves, but the orc paid them no mind, his eyes focused on Thorin. Bilbo felt her mouth dry as she took in the arm, hacked off just under the elbow, and stabbed through with a long metal spear. She could recognize him without ever having seen him before. It was Azog the Defiler, the pale orc from the story of Moria. He was calling things in the ugly, harsh language of the orcs, and Bilbo didn't need to understand his words to know that he was taunting Thorin. Then he gave a shout, and the wargs charged.

  
  


The next few moments were a haze of screaming. The wargs were throwing themselves against the trees, trying to scrabble up onto the lower branches. Some of the orcs were climbing up, though they were chopped down quickly by the dwarves. Suddenly, a ball of fire flew down and hit a warg on the nose, and his fur caught quickly, charring him almost immediately. Bilbo looked around and saw that Gandalf was enchanting pine cones, bringing them to a bright, wicked flame. He tossed some down to the dwarves, who caught on quickly and lit other pine cones, throwing them down toward the screeching enemy. Bilbo threw one which spiraled nicely into the eye of an orc, for a moment bringing to mind her young fauntling self, throwing pebbles at birds and the hissing cat of an aunt of hers. It was lucky that her skill remained fairly sharp. Soon there was a long curve of fire, blocking the wargs from the trees, as they were fearful of the magical flames. The company gave a short cheer, which was cut off abruptly as the first tree gave a horrible great creak. Bilbo's tree had been jostled so thoroughly by the wargs that they had greatly weakened the trunk. Suddenly, the tree was falling backward into the next tree. “JUMP!” shouted Dwalin, and so they did, the dwarves who were perched in that tree. Bilbo leapt into the next tree, managing to catch a hold on a branch. But that tree couldn't handle the sudden added weight of more dwarves, a hobbit, AND a huge fallen tree. Very soon, it was falling too, all the dwarves jumping into the next tree. It was like books without good bookends, the weight and motion knocking down one after another. Very soon, they were all in the last tree, which was, luckily, the sturdiest of all of them, although it was right up against the edge of the cliff. Bilbo was clutching at the trunk, arms and legs wrapped tight around it. The trunk began creaking. But by a stroke of luck, a tall, sturdy rock was right up against the bottom of the tree, and with its support, the tree bent instead of breaking. It was a small blessing, as the tree did bend quite a lot. Soon it was horizontal over a huge, long drop to sharp rocks. The company was shouting, and clinging fiercely to branches. Ori started falling, but grabbed onto Dori's knees as he dropped. Then Dori's branch broke, and he was saved in the last moment by Gandalf thrusting out his staff, which the dwarf latched on to.

  
  


What with all the commotion and the struggle to keep from falling, it took the company a moment too long to notice Thorin, who had pulled himself to standing. If they had seen him sooner, Kili may have grabbed a-hold of his legs to lock him in place, or Gandalf would have called him foolish and shamed him into staying to help. But the fire was shining in the dwarf's eyes, and his blood was pumping, molten and burning, spurring him to movement as he stared hard at the pale orc. And so when Fili yelled his uncle's name, it was too late, and Thorin was already leaping over the fire, sword held tight in both hands. The dwarves started swinging around in earnest now, trying to clamber onto the cliff, either to stop their king or to assist him, but none could gain purchase. Bilbo managed to crawl up onto the trunk, and she stood shakily, watching in horror. Thorin and Azog were charging at each other, Azog still riding his warg. Bilbo felt the world drain away into greyness as the warg barreled into Thorin, knocking him to the ground. Before Thorin could stand, the warg had turned about and stood over him, drooling onto him. 'Get up, Thorin,' she thought desperately. 'Come on, you dratted, damnable, stubborn ass of a dwarf, get up!' But the warg was too quick. His jaws snapped down around Thorin's chest, biting down hard and making the dwarf roar with pain. Then the warg was whipping his head back and forth, Thorin still in his mouth. This may have gone on for some time, but Thorin raised his sword and slammed the hilt hard onto the nose of the beast. The beast in question yelped, releasing the dwarf, and sending him flying through the air til he landed hard on a rock. Bilbo felt her stomach drop in fear for Thorin, who didn't seem able to move. Azog gave a hard cry, and then a different orc was striding toward Thorin, a great axe in his hand. He stepped hard on Thorin's chest, lining the axe up with his neck. Bilbo was running before she understood fully what she was doing. As the orc raised the axe to end her dwarf, Bilbo jumped as high as she could, wrapping her arms and legs around his chest, and dropping hard, just as she had with Nori. The orc had not expected the attack, and fell, giving an angry shout as his axe was dropped. Bilbo began beating as hard as she could against his face, her fists blackening his eye and punching the air from his chest. Then she quickly drew her sword and stabbed it deeply into the orc's chest, dragging it down to his stomach. She pulled the blade free and stood quickly, placing her soft little hobbit body between Azog and Thorin. The pale orc bared his teeth at her, and then there were at least five more of his group behind him. Bilbo threw a glance back at Thorin, calling his name. Their eyes met for a moment, and she saw the shock on his face before it went slack, his eyes rolling back and shutting. She called his name desperately, turning back to the enemy, knowing she was going to face them alone. 'If he is dead, I swear, I will... I will absolutely kill him!' she thought viciously. Then she swung her sword through the air in as threatening a way as possible. The vile creatures were advancing on her, when there was suddenly a shout! 

  
  


Kili and Dwalin came flying through the air, colliding with the orc riders, and knocking them off of their beasts. As they quickly killed them, more of the dwarves joined, having seen Bilbo run to their leader's defense. Bilbo set her jaw and ran at Azog, giving a small battle cry of her own. She jumped and caught on to the maw of his warg, slashing at the orc as best she could at her angle, and managing to slice across his thigh before the warg threw her off. Azog roared with rage, and advanced on her again, this time with another orc approaching her from the other side. Bilbo made a quick choice, and turned to run at the other orc, slicing into his belly quickly, and then running behind him before he fell and stabbing into his back, pulling out her sword and pushing the near-dead orc into Azog's path. The white, wicked beast crushed his skull under one foot, and then kept advancing. Bilbo steadied her sword, suddenly full of the knowledge that she was going to die, a thousand miles from home, to save a dwarf who had alienated her the entire way. She bared her teeth, and somehow knew that she would always give her life in trying to save Thorin. However, her good luck held firm, and it did not come to death after all. 

  
  


A keening, screeching cry hit Bilbo's ears. There was a great wind hitting her now, and she saw Azog's face twist with rage as he looked up and around him. Bilbo looked up and around as well, and cried out. There were eagles, gigantic eagles, flying all around the cliff in a great circle! They were grabbing wargs and orcs in their talons and throwing them down to their deaths, flapping at the fires til they roared up and consumed screaming creatures entirely, and simply landing claw-first on top of the horrid creatures. When one of the humongous birds grabbed Dwalin in it's scaly claws, Bilbo gave a shout of fear for the dwarf, but he was tossed onto the back of a different eagle, who began quickly flying him to safety. The eagles repeated this with all of the dwarves, grabbing and tossing and catching them. One flew over to Thorin, catching him up gently, and soaring away. Bilbo cried out, frightened by how awful he looked, his face pale and blood dripping from his abdomen. Then an eagle grabbed her and she screamed again, dropped a great distance until she landed on the back of another, her hands gripping hard at the feathers below her. And then, the company was flying through the air, high up into the sky, which was still dark and full of smoke and clouds. Bilbo could hear the dwarves calling to each other, and many of them calling out to Thorin, who was still limp in the claws of his carrier. 

  
  


They flew for long enough that Bilbo was beginning to get used to the motion, the rising and falling of the wings. All the time she watched Thorin, sending out prayers to any deity that might listen that he would live. At last the eagles began their descent, circling a flat little mountain that was surrounded by taller cliffs with nests just visible at their tops. This was the meeting place of the eagles, who knew and respected Gandalf. He had sent word to them of their trouble, begging their assistance. Thorin was the first to be dropped gently onto the smooth rock. Gandalf landed next, sliding off the back of his eagle before it had fully landed and rushing to aid the dwarf. One by one the dwarves landed, Bilbo coming last to find that Thorin was surrounded by his company, still laying on the rock, with Gandalf quickly murmuring spells under his breath. As Bilbo rushed forward, the wizard gave a sigh of relief, and the hobbit could just see Thorin beginning to move. “The halfling?” he croaked. Bilbo stopped. “Yes, Thorin, Bilbo is here, and she is safe,” Gandalf replied, stepping back as Fili and Kili helped their uncle to his feet. Thorin's eyes landed on Bilbo, who stood a couple feet away, wringing her hands nervously. She felt a smile starting as she saw he was battered but mostly okay, when his hard voice called out to her. 

  
  


“You!” he said, giving her such a harsh look that she felt gooseflesh rising on her arms. “What were you doing back there? You fool, you could have gotten yourself killed!” He was moving toward her now, his body tense and twitching with emotion. “Did I not say you would be a burden? That you would get in the way, that you have no place among us?” He was towering over her now, staring down at her with such intensity that Bilbo found she was quite frightened, forcing herself to stand her ground, her lips parting to defend herself. Then something in Thorin's demeanor shifted, and he was smiling a little helplessly, his eyes warm with affection. “I have never been so wrong in all my life,” he said, and then he was pulling Bilbo in, crushing her to his chest as his arms drew up around her. Bilbo went still, shocked, and then she was hugging him back hard, and the dwarves were all shouting and cheering, surrounding the pair of them and patting their backs, adding to their embrace with their own arms, singing Bilbo's praises. Bilbo blushed hard against Thorin's chest, and felt her eyes well up with emotion as she beamed. Thorin pulled back a little, gazing into her eyes with a look that was friendly and full of gratitude. He put his hands on either side of her face, tilting it, and pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I am sorry that I doubted you,” he said, his soft voice somehow heard over the din of the company. Bilbo smiled. “I understand, I was doubting myself there for a moment,” she said, and he smiled at her warmly. Somewhere behind her, Gandalf began laughing.

  
  


They decided that it would do everyone some good to have a little food and to get a little sleep. Bombur made a quick potato stew, with leeks and even some garlic. They all set up camp in a circle around the fire, Thorin telling Bilbo to join him at his side rather than sitting separately. Honoured, Bilbo blushed again, and found herself sitting between Thorin and Dori, who she thanked again for helping her into the tree. As they ate, occasionally one would call out a different part of the battle they had remembered, and the rest would cheer and whoop as they talked over each other. Fili and Kili spent a good moment shouting over the way Bilbo had launched herself at Azog, how she had bounded like a rabbit and flown like a bird, and protected Thorin like a fierce little bear. The company all raised their water-skins to her, and she laughed happily, red in the face and feeling happier than she could remember being even before she left the Shire. Soon after, though, the lack of sleep they had all dealt with, what with the goblin capture, their escape, and then their mad battle, they began dropping into sleep, burrowing under blankets and cloaks to fend off the autumnal chill in the air. Bilbo fell more slowly into sleep than the others, finding it difficult to ease her tense, sore muscles, especially with the small shivers she was feeling. And even when she did sleep, her body still shook and her teeth did chatter. But for all her shaking, she was more or less asleep, and so she did not hear the murmurings of the dwarves that cropped up an hour longer into the night.

  
  


Some of the dwarves had found it difficult to nod off, still feeling wired from the battle. Thorin, Balin, Kili, Nori, and Bifur were all sitting closer to the fire, smoking their pipes. Eventually though, they became very tired indeed, and started putting out their pipes, turning in to their bed rolls. Thorin looked up as Kili approached him, only to turn toward Bilbo, getting on his knees behind her. “Kili, what are you doing?” he asked in a low voice. His nephew turned to look at him sheepishly. “Well...” he trailed off under his uncle's hard gaze. “The hobbit came without proper blankets, some of us noticed our first night off. She was shivering and shaking half the night, so- Well, it was Dwalin's idea first. He said that someone ought to go give her his blanket, but the rest of us were cold as well, so... Well, Bofur went over and just curled up with her, pulled her in close and got her under his blanket to keep her warm. Then the next night it was Dwalin, then Fili... We've been taking turns, each of us, on the colder nights. Since we all wake before her as it is, she hasn't yet noticed that we do it,” he finished, not quite able to meet Thorin's eye. Thorin himself was frowning. “How have I never seen this happen?” he asked finally. Kili shrugged. “She always sleeps away from the group, so I guess you've just been too far away to notice.” “And you all do this?” “Well, Balin and Bifur don't, nor does Bombur, or Dori. And Ori went so red when we said it was his turn, we just let him be,” Kili said with a small chuckle. Thorin considered this, looking at the shivering hobbit for a long, quiet moment. “We don't do anything to her, uncle,” Kili said softly, his voice very serious. “We just want to make sure she's warm enough.” Thorin nodded. “Kili, go back to your bed roll,” he said after a moment. Kili looked as though he was going to argue, but then thought better of it and went back to his spot in the ring.

  
  


Thorin stared down at Bilbo for a good few minutes, thinking back on the day. He remembered her small body flying at the orc who had been about to kill him. He remembered the stance she took, shoulders tense, legs wide, standing on the balls of her feet, sword raised as she protected him. He remembered her wide, frightened eyes, golden in the firelight as she looked at him. And then he stood quietly, dragging his bed roll closer to her. He sank down quietly, and gently slid a hand over her side, resting it against her stomach. He pulled himself up against her back, trying not to focus too hard on the way she nuzzled back against him, her back fitting against his chest, her bottom fitting against his pelvis. He pulled his thick blanket up to her chin, and very soon after, he was asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo felt a hand against her stomach, a solid body curving around her. This time, she was rather expecting it, as she had caught on to the snuggling happening on those nights when she was too cold to sleep. She snuggled back, enjoying the warmth at her back, and then froze, frowning softly, keeping her eyes closed. There was a thick fur behind her head, a rather lush and familiar fur. A fur that had never been that close to her. Bilbo had guessed somewhere along the way that it was different dwarves every night that curled around her, rather like they were taking turns in looking after her. It was a quick enough thing to notice the way the chests were sometimes wider than others, the way the arm around her was rarely positioned the same way, the different tone in snoring. But she had never seen a reason to put a name to each dwarf, happy in not knowing who was who, figuring that the knowledge would only make things awkward in the morning. This time, though, she felt a need to confirm her suspicion about this particular dwarf's identity.
> 
> Bilbo waited til the breathing behind her came deep and even, a low, rumbling snore vibrating against her back. When she was sure he was asleep, she gently rolled over onto her other side, waited a minute, and then opened her eyes. Thorin's face was relaxed, looking more peaceful that she had ever seen it. Her eyes traced the thick brows, the deep-set eyes, the large, straight nose and the parted lips. Her face felt warm as she studied him, finally comfortable in appreciating how handsome he was. After a short while though, the rhythm of his breathing brought on a thick drowsiness, and she felt her eyes grow heavy. So she tucked her head under his chin, breathing against his throat, curled her fingers into the fur of his mantle, and fell deeply asleep. 
> 
> In the morning, the dwarves found them that way, both dead to the world after nearly dying, Thorin pressing Bilbo to his chest in his sleep. The rest of the company coughed and chuckled, and then left them to sleep a while longer, nobody willing to disturb their slumber. 
> 
> \--------
> 
> Welcome back! Hoo boy, this was a long one. I hope you liked it though, I feel like I've been planning it for ages! Let me know what you think, and thank you for reading. :}


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dwarves seek refuge in the home of Beorn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo felt a hand against her stomach, a solid body curving around her. This time, she was rather expecting it, as she had caught on to the snuggling happening on those nights when she was too cold to sleep. She snuggled back, enjoying the warmth at her back, and then froze, frowning softly, keeping her eyes closed. There was a thick fur behind her head, a rather lush and familiar fur. A fur that had never been that close to her. Bilbo had guessed somewhere along the way that it was different dwarves every night that curled around her, rather like they were taking turns in looking after her. It was a quick enough thing to notice the way the chests were sometimes wider than others, the way the arm around her was rarely positioned the same way, the different tone in snoring. But she had never seen a reason to put a name to each dwarf, happy in not knowing who was who, figuring that the knowledge would only make things awkward in the morning. This time, though, she felt a need to confirm her suspicion about this particular dwarf's identity.
> 
> Bilbo waited til the breathing behind her came deep and even, a low, rumbling snore vibrating against her back. When she was sure he was asleep, she gently rolled over onto her other side, waited a minute, and then opened her eyes. Thorin's face was relaxed, looking more peaceful that she had ever seen it. Her eyes traced the thick brows, the deep-set eyes, the large, straight nose and the parted lips. Her face felt warm as she studied him, finally comfortable in appreciating how handsome he was. After a short while though, the rhythm of his breathing brought on a thick drowsiness, and she felt her eyes grow heavy. So she tucked her head under his chin, breathing against his throat, curled her fingers into the fur of his mantle, and fell deeply asleep. 
> 
> In the morning, the dwarves found them that way, both dead to the world after nearly dying, Thorin pressing Bilbo to his chest in his sleep. The rest of the company coughed and chuckled, and then left them to sleep a while longer, nobody willing to disturb their slumber.

Bilbo awoke to the sound of hushes and shushes, the feeling of gentle movement around her. 

  
  


“Thorin... _psst_ , Thorin...”, “Wake up, lad, you'll want te see this...” Then the arm wrapped around her tightened a little, and she heard Thorin, voice deep and gruff from sleeping, answer quietly. “Be quiet, don't wake the halfling,” he grumbled. Bilbo frowned into Thorin's mantle. Halfling indeed! Hobbits are small compared to dwarves, perhaps, but they aren't 'half' anything, thank you very much! She had half a mind to give them a real talking to, but she knew better than to let the company knew how aware she was of their snuggling habits. But that didn't mean she had to make their morning any easier. She grinned impishly against Thorin's chest, then gave a large stretch, making the sort of soft cooing noise one does when on the brink of waking. There was a short burst of shushes and the sound of dwarves slapping at each other, and then they all went very still, trying not to wake her. Thorin's body tensed a little against her. So Bilbo wrapped her arms 'round his midsection and squeezed. After a few beats of silence, she tried to make the sort of heavy, low breathing noise that her cousins had once told her she made. She felt Thorin relax a touch, and then lift his head to look at the others. “Is she this way every time?” Bilbo heard no response, but she could just imagine the company shrugging and blinking dumbly, and she found it hard not to laugh. 

  
  


The next few minutes became a sort of game of 'Who can get the stubborn hobbit off of the Very Important King Under the Mountain without waking her', with Bilbo clinging hard to Thorin as the other dwarves tried to tug her off. They managed to get Thorin standing, but Bilbo just wrapped her legs around him, like a bear cub clinging to a tree. They pulled, and she gave a loud snore, and Thorin grunted. “For all Gandalf pushed her skills upon us, he never made mention of the hobbit's strength,” he grumbled. A dwarf wrapped his arms around Bilbo's waist and began leaning back. Feeling quite wicked and pleased with her little game, Bilbo suddenly let go. The dwarf behind her gave a shout, falling backward. Bilbo handed on his chest, his arms still around her. She chose that moment to wake up.

  
  


“Goodness me! What is going on here?” she demanded, and rolled over a little, putting her face right over Bofur's, drawing a light blush out of the dwarf. “Bofur! What is this, what's happening?” she squawked. Bofur released her immediately and pushed her off of him, talking very quickly. “Nothing! Nothing at all going on here, only tha' I tripped over you, and I didn' wan' ye to roll off the mountain, so I grabbed you, and tha's all tha' happened!” he said, almost shouting as he made a great show of dusting himself off. The other dwarves were very pointedly looking away from her. Bilbo put a stern expression on her face, trying hard not to smile. “Well, I am glad to hear that! That I sleep so near to the rest of you is already a terribly improper thing, I'd hate to think anyone was taking advantage of that fact!” Bilbo let the company ramble on loudly about how they'd not ever had even half a thought to do anything untoward, and Gandalf gave her a knowing little wink over their heads. After a while she flapped her hands, silencing them. “Well, now, I am awake, and I see you all looking rather excited, so what is it I've missed?” she asked. The dwarves all hushed at that, and looked to their king. He had been looking at the little hobbit, exasperated, when he had spotted that which he had been woken up to see. Bilbo turned to follow his eyes, and felt her jaw drop.

  
  


“Is... Is that what I..?” she murmured. The company moved as one, all walking up to the edge of the cliff, staring. Gandalf spoke up from behind them. “The Lonely Mountain,” he said. “The stolen city of Erebor.” Bilbo stared, enthralled. It looked so small from their point! But it was there, a dark shape against the brilliant sunrise. A flock of birds burst forth from the trees at the base of their camp, and Bilbo felt her heart soar up with them, watching them swirl up through the sky like shivering, waving ribbons. A hand clapped her shoulder, and she looked up to see Thorin gazing at his much-desired home with a smile on his face. He looked down into her eyes and the smile softened a little. “It is a good omen,” he said. She found herself beaming, and looking back to Erebor. “Do you know, I think it is. I think it truly is. Surely, the worst is behind us now.”

  
  


None of them wanted to stay much longer than was necessary, so they ate the last of their tomatoes, sliced on slices of bread, and each grabbed a flat piece of dried, salted meat. Then they were off, walking once again, all of them feeling greatly cheered by the sight of their destination. The sun was warm and bright, there was a cool breeze, and once they were clear of the rocky terrain, they found themselves walking through lush fields and shady little forests. It wasn't long before Bofur and Kili began singing a loud, bouncing, merry tune. All the dwarves joined in, and the song warmed Bilbo more than the sun. Gandalf hummed along and waggled his eyebrows at his little hobbit friend. “My dear,” he said softly, drawing Bilbo's attention. “I couldn't help but notice a certain something going on this morning.” Bilbo tried not to giggle. “Oh? And what did you notice, my dear Master Wizard?” she asked. “Well I rather thought I saw a hobbit, clinging fast to a dwarf in her sleep,” he said. Bilbo glanced around at the rest of the company, but their conversation hadn't caught any attention. She gave Gandalf a cheeky look. “He called me a halfling! The rude old grump, as if I was half anything!” she huffed. Gandalf raised a brow at her. She got the hint and shrugged. “It started happening back that night with the trolls. The wind was cold, and my blanket was too thin. I was shivering, and my teeth were chattering, and I was so exhausted but I was too cold to sleep. Then a dwarf came over to me, tucked me under his chin, and held me until I warmed up. I thought about protesting, but it was so cold and I was so tired. So I fell asleep, and the dwarf was awake and gone before I was. And it's continued happening, on the colder evenings. I think the dwarves have been taking turns, making sure I'm warm enough. I've never bothered to check who was who, but last night I felt Thorin's furs, and I turned to check, and it was him.” She shook her head. “I wasn't bothered by it, and I am still not. If anything, I am rather... Touched, in a way. That they care enough to make sure I'm alright? And Thorin! He has been against me from the start, but if I was looking for a sign that he is starting to respect me and accept me as one of the team. It's not so long ago that I would be shocked and scandalized by such a thing, but somehow, I just- Perhaps I have changed, after all.” Gandalf gave her a long look, and then patted her head and gave her a smile. “If it makes you happy, my dear Bilbo.” And with that, the conversation was ended.

  
  


In later months, Bilbo would look back fondly on that day, remembering it as being one of bonding, of warmth and friendliness, and being one of the most peaceful days of their trip. They walked through trees, on warm, sandy paths, through grass that tickled Bilbo's knees. They sat to a sparse little lunch of the last of the meat and some carrots. Bombur even produced a couple of apples, which they split and ate with the last of the cheese. But even facing diminished food supplies, it was still a day of smiles and bonding. Bilbo walked with Ori, telling him stories about Hobbiton. She told him about her mother, the adventures Belladonna had been on. She told him about Bungo Baggins, his stern upbringing. And she told him about running through fields as a wee lass, imagining goblins and elves and great kingdoms! He listened, enraptured, and when they stopped for rests, he would sit and scribble away in his book. At one such stop, Bilbo snuck up behind Fili, who was carefully re-braiding his mustache. She sat in front of him and watched, trying to follow his fingers. She frowned. “It seems so easy when you do it!” she complained, trying to mimic his actions on the free section of her hair. He chuckled warmly, and shrugged. “It becomes easier with time and practice,” he said. “The trick is to remember the pattern. You separate your hair, as I've done here, and then the left section goes over the center, where it becomes the new center.” He sat with her, explaining patiently. Then he gently reached over and covered her fingers with his own, guiding her hands so she could better understand. His face was quite close to hers, and she found herself studying it in the sunlight. She smiled when he looked at her. “Fili, it is most astounding, your eyes are the exact same colour as the forget-me-nots in my garden at home.” She was delighted at the light blush that warmed his cheeks. He quickly called his brother over. “Kili, come here! We are going to teach Mistress Baggins how to braid properly, so she won't keep embarrassing herself,” he said cheekily, winking at the hobbit, making her blush, and thus restoring order to the universe. Kili agreed, after some coaxing and a promise that Bilbo would grant him any favour he desired in return, to sit as a sort of practice doll. Fili taught her first a long braid, the sort many dwarf children sported. It started off small, up at the top of the head, but then more and more hair was added until all the hair was in a great big braid! Bilbo felt quite pleased with the result, and began threading wildflowers into the braid, giggling a little as she did. Kili allowed it, blushing as he was under her fingers, and so it was that when Thorin called for everyone to continue moving, Kili strode forward, chest puffed out, arms swinging strong at his sides, and daisies tickling his cheeks. Bofur nudged her and gave her a wink, praising her handiwork, and Bilbo beamed with real joy! At his coaxing, she even tossed her head back, started stomping her feet to the rhythm in her head, and gave a loud performance of a song from her home. The dwarves all stomped and clapped along with her, cheering and laughing. Even Thorin chuckled at her bright red cheeks and pretty voice.

  
  


After a small stretch of time, though, their moods became a little darker. Pleased though they were at their progress, the sun was strong, and they had little food or water left. Even though they had stopped and sat and ate little over an hour earlier, everyone was grumbling a little about their hungry stomachs and dry throats. The final straw, it seemed, came when Gandalf asked if he might have a bit of water, and was refused. He gave quite a bit of a grumble at that, muttering about the inconvenience in traveling with such a thirsty group. Bilbo shuffled over and piped up from beside him, gazing at the wizard with wide, praising eyes and a sweet little smile. “Oh but Gandalf, you said yourself you know this area well! Surely such a wise, kindly wizard as yourself would have friends, perhaps friends with food and drink that they may be happy enough to lend?” Gandalf looked down at her, smiling. “Well my dear, I do know of a man, in fact he lives quite close to here!” He paused, staring off into the sky with a worried look on his face. “It may be dangerous, though. In point of fact, I would be amazed if it were not.” Bilbo put on her best reasoning voice. “Yes, but my dear Master Gandalf, it will be so much more dangerous to travel on through dangerous lands without food or drink. Weakened by thirst and hunger so that dangerous creatures may find and kill us!” The wizard sighed. “Very well.” He turned to address the entire company. “But this is a delicate situation, and it must be handled with tact, intelligence, and no small measure of humility.” He seemed to aim this rather decidedly toward Thorin, who frowned at him. “Where do you mean to lead us?” asked the dwarf. “I will be leading everyone to the home of Beorn.” As they continued walking, Gandalf told them of Beorn, the stories he had heard told. “He is a skin-changer,” said he. Bilbo shuddered. “What, one of those horrid men who advertise lovely fine pelts, and then produce squirrel hides in their place?” she asked. “Oh goodness no, no Bilbo, not one of them, and you would do well to keep such talk far away from Beorn. He is a skin-changer, in that he changes his own skin! At times he appears as a massive black bear, far bigger than any other bear I have encountered. Otherwise, he appears as a great tall man, with thick arms and black hair. It is believed that his people came from the mountains, before goblins took them over. Now I do fear Beorn is the only one left of his kind.” Bilbo felt quite saddened by the thought. 

  
  


After a while, the grass around them became interrupted by patches of flowers. Big, sunny daisies, golden sunflowers, gorgeous roses of all colours, violets, lilies, lupines, and huge beds of clover! They all looked quite intentionally planted, and they were most beautiful. The grass, too, was lusher, softer and greener. The trees were big, thick ones, with delicate, silvery leaves that made sounds like falling rain as the wind blew through them. Not only that, though, there were _bees_! Great, monstrously huge bees! When Bilbo first spotted one, she made a loud noise of surprise. Balin looked around, concerned. “Mistress Bilbo, what is it?” he asked. She pointed out the bee to him. “My goodness, Master Balin! If that bee should ever sting me, I bet you I would swell to twice my size!” There were many of them, as big as Bilbo's nose, buzzing and whirring rather merrily all around. Gandalf brought them away from the path, to a group of tall, leafy trees. They peered between the trunks and through the tall grasses, and could see a house! It was a big, beautiful place, surrounded by gardens of flowers and vegetables alike, with a little stream some way behind it. Deer were walking through serenely alongside horses and sheep, and they seemed to wander in and out of the house quite freely! The house itself was a huge old thing, wooden, with many wide open windows. The wall by the front door had beautiful vines of honeysuckle curling up to the roof, and even from her spot Bilbo could see the bees flying around it. Gandalf turned to face them all. 

  
  


“Right. For all I have told you of Beorn, I have neglected to mention that he is a recluse, and not very fond of strangers, even less fond of large groups. So it will go like this. Miss Baggins and I will approach first. We will introduce ourselves, see if he is in a receptive mood. If he is, at my signal, or every five minutes, two more of you will approach. Mind that you come in pairs, though. It would not do us well to startle him by all plopping in at once. Come now, Bilbo.” Bilbo stared at him with wide eyes, not too pleased at being in the first pair. But she lifted her chin, puffed out her chest, and walked beside Gandalf with no fuss at all. The wizard looked down at her. “I know that your father has raised you to be diplomatic and charming, Bilbo,” he said. “Your skills would be most helpful in this situation.” Bilbo nodded. So focused was she on not betraying her fear and unease to any around her, she did not feel the worried eyes following her retreating back.

  
  


As they approached the house, horses and dogs sniffed the air as they passed, before bolting off toward the house. Bilbo thought it odd, and tried hard not to stare into the eyes of the animals. They looked almost too wise, too understanding. She found herself worried about offending them. And so she continued on silently. As they came close to the front door, Gandalf lifting his staff to knock, the huge front door opened to reveal an equally huge man. Bilbo blinked at him, and swallowed hard. He was taller even than Gandalf! As tall as two Gandalfs, she guessed. He had a big, handsome face, topped with thick black hair, and bottomed with a long black beard. His shoulders were broad, and his arms and legs were as thick as Bilbo's own body. As the man looked at the pair of them, he gave a deep, booming sort of laugh. “Well well, these are they, then?” he asked, seeming to direct the question to one of the horses. “Hmph, yes, threatening indeed, you worrywart. Alright, you two, who are you and what brings you?” Bilbo blinked, surprised by his rather rude greeting. Gandalf luckily answered for the two of them. “I am Gandalf the Grey, and this is Bilbo Baggins. Miss Baggins is of the Shire, and I am of the world. You may not have heard of me, but I have heard of you, the great Master Beorn! I believe you are acquainted with my friend, Radagast the Brown?” At mention of their names, Beorn had continued his stern, suspicious stare, but at mention of Radagast, he gave a little chuckle and his eyes warmed and crinkled rather charmingly. “Ah yes, Radagast. Odd little fellow, that, but a sweet one. Well, I know your names now, but I don't yet know what brings you.” “Well, we have just come down from the Misty Mountains, where we had a rather unfortunate confrontation with the goblins, though I fear it is a long story.” “Hmm, the goblins, you say? Nasty little buggers, if you'll pardon my language, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire. A hobbit, eh? Well, I suppose you'd both best come in, as I am rather interested to hear how a wizard and a hobbit came to have confrontations with goblins!” And that is how they gained entrance. 

  
  


Bilbo watched and listened, astounded, as Gandalf spun his tale with such confusing, interesting wording that Beorn became quite hooked on listening to it. Any time the wizard mentioned the company, he say there were two more to their number than the last time he'd mentioned it, and as Beorn interrupted, rightly confused by the growing number, another pair of dwarves would pop up, offering their names and their services! Bilbo was impressed, Gandalf's game was wisely played indeed. By the time the story was done, Beorn looked around and was surprised to find himself in the company of fifteen strangers, most of them dwarves, a race he was not overly fond of. But the story had been very entertaining, so he invited them to stay and rest. Dinner was served at the sun began to set. It was served by the dogs and sheep and horses, much to Bilbo's amazement, and none of the meal was meat, much to the dwarves' amazement. It was all incredibly good, though. A multitude of vegetables, carrots, parsnips, peas, beans, sprouts, potatoes, yams and broccoli, served in more ways than seemed possible! And them to follow, biscuits, muffins, bread and cakes, served with fruit, honey, clotted cream and jam. And all throughout, they drank from big mugs of beer, a sweet apple cider, and mulled wine. Bilbo drank mostly of the mulled wine, the heat curling down into her toes and making her less shy, and very soon she was being polite and charming, as Gandalf had instructed. She sat next to Beorn, asking about his flowers and gardens and telling him of the ones she had back home. She called him the Great Lord Beorn of the House of Flowers, making him chuckle, and when she praised his honeysuckle vines as being the grandest she had ever seen, he gave a great laugh, lifted her from her seat with one hand and sat her down on his knee, ruffling her hair affectionately. “My dear Miss Bilbo, if all hobbits are as delightful as you, I may need to visit Hobbiton straight away!” he said with a smile, and his eyes were so kind and his smile so charming, Bilbo leapt to her feet and kissed him right on the tip of his nose! “Most considerate and charming Master Beorn, I should be so pleased to entertain you at Bag End, though you may find it small, and it is not nearly so fine as your wonderful home!” Beorn laughed again, a bit pink in the cheeks himself, and Gandalf chuckled, though Thorin did not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the long meal, which stretched on into suppertime as well, Beorn addressed his guests. “I am going out to attend to some business. While I am away, my home is yours to explore, and my friends will attend you in my absence. My only request is that none of you venture outside until the sun is in the sky again, as it will not be safe for you until that time.” And with that, he shook Gandalf by the hand, ruffled Bilbo's hair fondly, and left into the darkness. Shortly after he left, a few of the dwarves burst into laughter. “Why, delightful Miss Bilbo, it seems you have an admirer!” said Kili, feigning outrage. “If Beorn means to battle for your affections, I say, let him come! And Fili and I will run off, screaming for our lives!” His brother laughed as well. And Bofur sat in the corner, laughing so hard that no sound came out, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Jus'- Lads, jus' picture the children!” and that sent the lot into fits of laughter all over again. Bilbo frowned at them, trying not to giggle as the image of her trying to change the nappy of a baby twice her size popped into her mind. “Oh hush, he was being friendly, and I was as well. Just because none of you lot know how to be charming and affectionate doesn't mean the rest of us fare the same way!” Even her stern tone didn't quell their laughter, so she went with a huff and sat by the fire with Thorin, who gave a dark little chuckle at the look on her face. They sat quietly for a bit, Bilbo having no idea what to say to the dwarf. After a while, he turned to her, an odd look on his face. “Might I ask, what were you telling our host that had him so delighted?” And so Bilbo told him about the flowers that bloomed in the springtime, and the shrubs that burst into colour as autumn broke. Even though it couldn't have been too exciting, Thorin listened intently, staring into the fire. Her talk of flowers turned to talk of the Shire, and soon she was telling him the stories she had told Ori, about her running into corn fields, wild as a fox, vexing her parents and frightening the neighbours. Thorin would occasionally laugh. When Bilbo ran out of things to say, he began a tale of his nephews as they were when they were young, which became a story about his sister. But lulled by the fire, the wine and the deep, soothing sound of his voice, Bilbo leaned her head against his shoulder, eyes shut, fast asleep.
> 
> \--------
> 
> Hurrah, chapters! Well! Beorn is a lovely manbear, eh?
> 
> The braid she gave Kili was a french braid, I feel I should mention. And he looked very pretty in it. 
> 
> I would also like to say that I'm trying to take from both the book and the movie to write this. My dad read my sister and I The Hobbit when we were kids, and I'm rereading it now, but I am more familiar with the movie. In a few ways I prefer the movie, if only because the dwarves are so beautifully fleshed out in the movie, they're like real beings, rather than the ones in the book who had very little explained about them. But I love the book, and Tolkien's writing, so I'm doing an odd sort of combination of the two.
> 
> Please do comment, tell me how you're liking things, and thank you for reading!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The company enjoys the hospitality offered by Beorn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the long meal, which stretched on into suppertime as well, Beorn addressed his guests. “I am going out to attend to some business. While I am away, my home is yours to explore, and my friends will attend you in my absence. My only request is that none of you venture outside until the sun is in the sky again, as it will not be safe for you until that time.” And with that, he shook Gandalf by the hand, ruffled Bilbo's hair fondly, and left into the darkness. Shortly after he left, a few of the dwarves burst into laughter. “Why, delightful Miss Bilbo, it seems you have an admirer!” said Kili, feigning outrage. “If Beorn means to battle for your affections, I say, let him come! And Fili and I will run off, screaming for our lives!” His brother laughed as well. And Bofur sat in the corner, laughing so hard that no sound came out, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Jus'- Lads, jus' picture the children!” and that sent the lot into fits of laughter all over again. Bilbo frowned at them, trying not to giggle as the image of her trying to change the nappy of a baby twice her size popped into her mind. “Oh hush, he was being friendly, and I was as well. Just because none of you lot know how to be charming and affectionate doesn't mean the rest of us fare the same way!” Even her stern tone didn't quell their laughter, so she went with a huff and sat by the fire with Thorin, who gave a dark little chuckle at the look on her face. They sat quietly for a bit, Bilbo having no idea what to say to the dwarf. After a while, he turned to her, an odd look on his face. “Might I ask, what were you telling our host that had him so delighted?” And so Bilbo told him about the flowers that bloomed in the springtime, and the shrubs that burst into colour as autumn broke. Even though it couldn't have been too exciting, Thorin listened intently, staring into the fire. Her talk of flowers turned to talk of the Shire, and soon she was telling him the stories she had told Ori, about her running into corn fields, wild as a fox, vexing her parents and frightening the neighbours. Thorin would occasionally laugh. When Bilbo ran out of things to say, he began a tale of his nephews as they were when they were young, which became a story about his sister. But lulled by the fire, the wine and the deep, soothing sound of his voice, Bilbo leaned her head against his shoulder, eyes shut, fast asleep.

The entire company awoke the next morning at the same time, just as the sun had begun to think that it was maybe time to wake up, to the sound of the doors banging open and a loud, booming laugh. Bilbo gave an alarmed snort and rolled quickly to a sitting position, somehow managing to accidentally slap Thorin across the face, making him shout out in confusion from the spot they had been occupying moments ago. All the dwarves sat quickly, some jumping to their feet, ready to face their attacker. It was Beorn, stomping into his home, clapping his hands, and laughing as loudly as a crack of thunder. The company shuffled around, sharing glances, concerned and unsure what to do. They looked around for Gandalf, but it seemed he had disappeared some time in the night, off on some wizardly errand. 

  
  


After a short while, Beorn sat down heavily at his long table and wiped his eyes. “Ah, ah hah, well, as you may have guessed, as you slept I made my trip up into the Misty Mountains, in order to see what of your stories were true! All throughout the ranges and peaks, goblins roam, shrieking and confused, stabbing their neighbours, making the most glorious of rackets! All in such a great panic! Killing of strangers and kin alike, as they try to decide upon their next king! My! You truly did do it, then. You killed the king of the goblins, and you battled orcs and wargs! Most incredible. I think I should like to hear the stories again!” And so they all sat down, enjoying a breakfast of strawberries, cream, thickly sliced bread and butter, and told their host the stories once again. This time, Beorn stopped them frequently, asking for more details. How Bilbo received the dwarves (not well), how the dwarves treated their new addition (not well), how the weather had been (not well). He was most interested in hearing detailed accounts of the battles against goblins, orcs and trolls, wiping tears from his eyes as he heard how Bilbo had tricked the trolls into their stony fate, and slapping his knee with a snort as Bombur spoke of the way Bofur had tried to stall for time with the goblin king. When the tale was done, he clapped his hands, and gave a great, happy sigh. “I am not a polite man. I know this. And I am not overly fond of dwarves, I am not ashamed to say, as I have been given reason to distrust them. But any group that can so thoroughly upset goblins, orcs and trolls has my blessing, my thanks, and my welcome. You may all stay for as long as you care to, and may feel free to stop in if ever you find yourselves nearby again. My home is open to you!” The company gave a cheer, applauding their host, and commending him on his magnificence. 

  
  


The day went on in an easy way, none of the company really feeling ready to push off yet. Fili and Kili, after very pointedly dropping their weapons onto the table, went out to wander around the grounds, making a great deal of noise as they tried to communicate with the animals as Beorn did. Bifur found a little bench out in the sunlight, pulled out a knife and a block of firewood, and began carving a beautiful toy bear, which opened its mouth in a silent roar when you pulled its little tail, a present for their host. Balin, Dwalin and Thorin sat with Beorn for a good while, discussing their plans. Dori and Ori sat in the clover with Nori, the three of them chatting as Ori tried to sketch the bees. Oin and Gloin were going over supplies, as Oin tried to bend his ear trumpet into the right shape. As for Bofur, Bombur and Bilbo, the three of them had gone exploring the house, til at last they found the kitchen. Bilbo had sweetly asked Beorn about them, and he had chuckled, declaring that if she so desired, she was welcome to take control of them for the rest of the day. She and Bombur had decided to go and do just that, Bofur coming along to sample the results. The trio spent a great long piece of time fluttering around the kitchen, excited by the truly massive amounts of foods, and the great huge ovens, Bombur making a number of dwarf recipes, and Bilbo baking all her old favourites. They talked about recipes, joked about disastrous mismeasures, and sharing their favourite eating experiences. By the time the sun began its slow descent, the great long tables in the middle of the kitchen were covered in plates and platters. The dwarves had prepared a great huge pot of vegetable stew with stout in it, some rather nice hard rock cakes, seed cakes, a couple loaves of crisp, dark bread, a vat of parsnips and yams mashed together with sweet maple sugar, a thick soup of tomatoes, basil and thickly sliced mushrooms, and a sort of big, sticky tart called a Rum Nicky. Bilbo made mostly desserts, as that is what she most missed. Lovely brown sugar cookies, a big apple tart, raspberry muffins, a big, fluffy lemon cake, a large tray of chocolate brownies with sweet mint leaves crushed into the batter, a positively massive loaf of mushroom garlic bread, a rich, dense chocolate cake with a small amount of tomato in the batter for richness, and most of all she made honey cakes. Great, huge honey cakes, at least three batches of them, some plain, some with a light coating of white sugar, and some with a delightful runny lemon icing drizzled on top. The food was all incredibly tasty, and with it they made a great big pot of coffee, and several pots of tea. This is what the company was eating when Gandalf at last showed up, looking a little grim, with the news that he had scouted out the next leg of their travels. He sat down to eat as well, and soon he was smiling. They all were! Smiling and laughing and chatting away easily. Bifur presented Beorn with his carved bear, which was handsome indeed, and Beorn thanked him loudly for it. Fili and Kili demanded lessons in speaking to sheep. And Bilbo jotted down her recipe for honey cakes, as Beorn ate a great many of them and demanded that she stay with him forever, or at the very least give him the means to make some cakes of his own.

  
  


After the meal, Gandalf sat with Beorn, talking in low voices, til they seemed to agree, and then called the rest of the company over. Gandalf explained that he had first walked very far South, and then walked very far North, before deciding upon the route they must take to reach Erebor, and Beorn agreed, that they would take the path through the Green Wood. “It is a dangerous place, and a deep evil has taken root in it. It is now called Mirkwood. The forest is dense, dark, and you will find little to eat or drink once you enter it. It is a large forest, and one that takes joy in leading wanderers astray. For this reason, it is imperative that none of you stray from the path!” Beorn nodded. “The trees swallow the light from the sky. Walking through the wood is like walking into a grave. None of my animals will go near it for fear, and they tell me that it is rotting and dying. The only food safe to eat are the nuts, if any can be found, and the only water comes from a thick, black stream. You must not drink from it, do not even _touch_ it, for it contains a dark magic that brings on a deep sleep and a loss of memories. And should you avoid the dangers of the wood itself, you will still need to avoid the elves that live there,” he said. Gandalf looked up at that, brows furrowed. “The king of the elves in Mirkwood is Thranduil! He is wise and kind, by all accounts a fair elf.” “Aye, he can be so. But he is also vain, and can be spiteful. The elves of Mirkwood are different from those of Rivendell. Less wise, more wild. They have learned to thrive in darkness, but they long for the light of the stars! And the good king Thranduil, for all his virtues, is covetous. And it is said he has a great dislike for dwarves. He claims that they did him a great disservice, that they once took a great treasure that was his by right.” At this, Thorin slammed his fist on the table, a dark look on his face.

  
  


“Thranduil,” he spat. “I remember him from the days when my grandfather ruled under the mountain. He is the elf king who would not help my people as they were being killed by Smaug. He came with his army, and he watched as Erebor fell. And for what, a box of gems? Gems which belonged to the line of Durin! He is without honour!” Bilbo frowned at his outburst, considering the tale. A spiteful elf king who would not save the dwarves, or a strong leader who was denied his own property? Beorn raised his hands, frowning as well. “Peace, Master Dwarf. You should know as well as any other the greed of the dwarves, and the sickness running in the blood of Durin's line. A great, lusty sickness for gold and precious metals. I do not think you can, in all honesty, say that there is no truth to the claims of the elf king.” Thorin seethed at that. “There are two sides to every story,” he growled. Beorn nodded, agreeing silently, though Bilbo got the feeling he was merely trying to appease the dwarf. She looked at Thorin, who had his hands curled into fists, and aimed a kick at him under the table. He snapped his eyes to her, and she glared at him, shaking her head. Miraculously, he seemed to understand her meaning, that they were guests and that Beorn was not a man to cross, and so he glared, but looked away, his mouth pressed shut.

  
  


The rest of the night was fairly quiet, none of the company feeling as cheerful when they considered the business of the following day. They would head out at first light, carrying as much food and water as they could. Beorn would supply them with ponies, who would take them to the edge of the woods, but who were then to be released to return home. Beorn was firm on this point, and at last the dwarves agreed to it, though none of them were happy at the thought of going on foot. They mostly dreaded the news Gandalf gave, however, that he planned to leave them at the edge of the forest, before going off to investigate a brewing evil that Radagast had informed him of. Bilbo was especially bothered by this. Gandalf had become a most dear friend to her, empathizing with her and telling stories about her mother to make her smile on hard days. She spent much of the evening sitting with him, occasionally reaching out to pat his knee, asking in a weak little voice if he could be persuaded to stay. He smiled at her each time, a sad little smile, and shook his head, putting a hand on her shoulder. Just as the sun dipped beneath the mountains, Bilbo asked after a place she might bathe before the morning trip. Beorn frowned, telling her than he mostly bathed in the stream, but that it would be dreadfully cold by now. So he went out himself with his largest soup pot, filled it with water, and then brought it in to heat over the fire. He gave her a large bar of soap, roughly cut and smelling like mint, and then offered the kitchen as a private spot for her. She climbed into the soup pot, laughing a little at the thought of a big pot of hobbit soup, and set to scrubbing herself. A couple minutes in, a sweet, sandy coloured doe came in, towels on her back. A big, shaggy dog came in after her on two legs, and she grabbed Bilbo's dirty clothes in her forepaws, removing them and leaving behind a replacement set. Bilbo watched in amazement. She had never seen animals behave in such a way! She was rather embarrassed at the way she had always assumed animals to be rather stupid, simple creatures. 'I will have to change my thinking about a great many things after this trip, I should think,' she thought, ducking under the water to rinse herself. This time, they had given her a pair of undershorts! Bilbo laughed at the sight of them. They were small, light grey, and a little worn. They weren't the long underwear favoured by the dwarves, so she wondered who had given them? She pulled them on all the same, sighing happily at the feeling of security gained by having cloth so close to her center, for dwarf pants were loose in structure, and she had been feeling rather regrettably sticky. Then she pulled on the shirt. It was incredibly soft, and a light grey colour. She guessed it belonged to Kili, going by the laces at the front. Then the pants, which were black, and she suspected belonged to Fili, who was a touch more slender in the waist than the others. These sat high on her waist, and the cuffs had to be rolled back several times before her furry toes could peak out. And then she saw a belt, a thick one, with a pattern of waving lines on the cloth and a large silver buckle. She pulled it on, tightening it as best she could, and grinned, comfortable, clean, and secure once more.

  
  


Bilbo emerged with her hair wrapped in a towel, drying slowly out of sight of the dwarves. Beorn beamed when he saw her, gave her a glass of warming mulled wine, and told her she looked fine indeed. She accepted the cup gratefully, and then padded over to the fire, feeling the chill in the air. The dwarves were all puffing away at their pipes. She sat next to Bofur and drank from her cup, smiling at her friend. He passed her a honey cake that he had been warming over the fire, and she let him take a gulp of her wine. They sat in comfortable silence, both lost in thought.

  
  


“Bofur,” she said after a while, and he looked over at her with a nod. “Do you think we will truly make it to the Lonely Mountain? All of us?” The dwarf frowned thoughtfully. “Well, I s'pose it's possible tha' none of us will. It is a treacherous path we face, no doubt abou' tha'. Some of us are old, some of us are young, and a few are fatter than the halls of Erebor are wide.” He aimed an affectionate, worried little smile at Bombur, who was sitting nearby with a massive slice of bread halfway into his mouth. Bofur sighed. “And then, there are some of us who are so wee, it's hard to see them even when you squint.” He nudged her playfully. “In truth, I worry. But no' too much. I'd say we're all of us too stubborn to die.” They fell into silence again, although this was a tense silence, worried and agitated. Bilbo looked around at the dwarves, realizing how much her heart would break if any of them fell. She took another swallow of wine, suddenly hating the silence. So she handed Bofur the cup, and as he took a mouthful of it, she leaned in and whispered, “So who is it I'll be cuddled by tonight?” The dwarf spat wine all over the place in a fine mist, dribbling red off of his chin as he gave her a startled look, spluttering and coughing. Bilbo stuck a fist to her mouth, trying to hold back her laughter. “Oh, Bofur! Is that the way I looked when the company came a-calling? All blushing and squeaking!” She laughed, and then nudged him hard. “Don't worry. I've known for some time now. It doesn't bother me, in fact, I think it rather sweet, all of you taking care of me. So who is scheduled tonight?” Bofur gave her a sly look. “Fili and Kili. They haven't decided which yet, the flirty twits. They both quite like you, y'know. When they first met you, they were all on abou' how fun it was to make you uncomfortable, with all your blushing an' flailing. But they've taken quite the shine to you now!” Bilbo grinned, blushing. “I quite like them too, I quite like all of you! You've become my friends, and I am happy to be with you.” Bofur smiled at that, and patted her toweled head. “Alrigh', let's take a look at the tangled mess you've got on your wee head now.” Bilbo pulled the towel off, and shook out her long, damp hair, combing her fingers through it. Bofur sighed at the sight of it. “You do have a fine head o' hair on you, lass,” he said. Bilbo smiled nervously. “Is it strange, me having it down?” He shook his head. “It may be to the rest of 'em, but Bombur, Bifur an' me, we're workin' folk. We come from the blue mountains, where we spend all the days building and tinkering and cookin' all together. There, a lass can decide when she settles down if she wants to leave her hair down and free, and some do, so it's less of a shock to me than to some of the others.” Bilbo nodded, and then moved in front of him, turning her back to him so he could start braiding. As he worked away, she asked about dwarf customs, fascinated by their traditions and manners. She was enthralled by the stories, so much so that she didn't notice the hot glances being thrown her way, the eyes that danced over her long hair and her curvy little plump body and her smiling lips. Glances from the other side of the fire. 

  
  


Her braid, when it was finished, was a long simple one, big and thick, made up of smaller braids that twisted away from her face. She pulled it over her shoulder, admiring it, and then gave Bofur a hug of thanks. Not long after, Bilbo unrolled her bed, pulled out her blanket, and curled up to sleep. Her spot happened to be in between Ori and Gloin, with Fili and Kili a couple places away. Bilbo found it difficult to sleep, worried at the thought of moving on tomorrow. She thought of Beorn, and his beautiful home and strange manners, and how it was sure to be much less easy and comfortable going into the forest. She tried to picture it, but found she couldn't. Instead, she had visions of goblins, chewing on the bloody limbs of her dwarves, and she could hear Gollum's thin voice singing in the back of her mind. She shuddered, and curled up tighter, trying to banish the images by listening to the snoring of the rest of the company. After a while, she became away of whispering voices not too far away. She frowned a little, straining to hear. “It's my turn by right, Thorin took my turn last go 'round!” “If he did, that is your business, it's my turn now.” A slow smile curved onto Bilbo's face. Fili and Kili, the sweet little princes. She wondered at their interest, but it made sense in her mind, they were a pair of hot blooded young dwarves, and she was the only female of their group. She was a little more desirable than the other males, anyway. Besides that, they were young for their race, and it was possible they were new to holding women, snuggling and the like. Bilbo was again struck by the thought that it should bother her, being talked about as though she were just a thing to feel and hold, but she simply wasn't. The wine was warm in her tummy, and she rather liked the idea of being fought over for the first time. There were so many lady hobbits that the men never put up any sort of struggle over them. 

  
  


Bilbo heard the decision being made. “Right, well, it's colder than usual these days, what with autumn coming.” “Aye, and we're laying on cold dirt! Very cold dirt.” “We are indeed. And Bilbo is a small hobbit, she catches chill so easily. We'd best share the duty tonight.” “Wise thinking, brother.” Bilbo almost laughed, but she held it in, rolling over so her back was to them. She heard them standing and shuffling in the dark, moving slowly so as not to trip over anyone. She heard the feet come right up beside her, and then they were lowering themselves, one at her back, the other at her front. Now, one Bilbo could handle comfortably, especially when it was back-to-front. But two! It was a lucky business that the fire had been put out, she was blushing so hard that she was sure it would be seen clearly in any sort of light. Arms reached around her, hands settling on her hips and her back, and she could feel the two chests boxing her in. She had no idea which was which. In the dark, with sweet alcohol in her veins, she felt bold. Her arms wrapped tight around the body of the dwarf in front of her, and her leg slid in between those of the one behind her. Bilbo felt them shifting around, trying to get comfortable. When they had just finished settling, Bilbo gave a great yawn and rolled over, now facing the other one. She could sense a face very close her hers, could feel the breath against her cheek, and she nuzzled against it, her face burying into a throat. The owner of the throat swallowed hard, and the lack of beard gave him away. Kili. Fili, surprised by her rolling, was pulled in closer, his hand trapped between her hip and the ground. Feeling cheeky, more of a Took than ever before, she slip her hips back a little, her bottom just lightly touching Fili's stomach. She heard him make a funny little noise behind her, and, reveled in her boldness! Feeling scandalous and incredibly pleased with herself, sure she had just been very daring indeed, she gave a small smile, and fell to sleep.

  
  


Bilbo awoke the next morning to Bifur waving a biscuit in her face, shouting something at her. She groaned, squeezing her eyes shut, but sat up anyway, packing her bags while still half asleep. They all ate a large breakfast, none of them excited to go back to sparse meals and rumbling bellies, and then began loading up the ponies with the packs and the extra food and water Beorn offered. Their host stood at the door of his home, watching them with careful eyes. When they were all ready to leave, he cleared his throat, and straightened to his full height. “Well then, Thorin Oakenshield and company. You depart now on your dangerous journey, possibly facing death and heartbreak. I have instructed you in the best path to take, and now there is nothing left but to wish you luck and success in your endeavors. You have made a friend here, and you will all be welcome in my home should you ever need shelter.” Bilbo smiled sadly, looking all around the beautiful house, the wise animals and the strange friend they had made. He came down the steps to shake the hands of both Gandalf and Thorin. Before he stepped back out of the way, he crouched down by Bilbo, still managing to beat her height by a couple of feet. “Now, Miss Bilbo. Listen here. These dwarves will defend you, of that I am sure, but at times this adventure may seem too much for you. Should you ever need to turn back, my doors are open to you. Little bunny, I hope you will be wise enough to hop out of danger.” She smiled at him, and gave him a quick hug. “It has been wonderful meeting you, most Magnificent Beorn of the House of Flowers,” she said, and he laughed. Then the company was heading out, with heavy hearts and tense expressions.

  
  


They rode on for some time. Gandalf knew where he was going, though as they drew nearer, the ponies began slowing down, turning more skittish the closer they got. Bilbo could empathize. She kept thinking she could hear howling wargs in the air, and she kept seeing dark flashes among the trees. But as she squinted, she could see that in fact, it was a massive bear! The biggest she had ever seen! And then she understood, Beorn was watching their progress. Whether it was to lend a hand in case of trouble or to make sure his ponies were returned, Bilbo wasn't sure, though she guessed it was both.

  
  


After a good three hours of stiff riding and no conversation at all, Mirkwood loomed over them. The trees must have been as old as the world itself, they were so massive! The trunks were dark, the leaves such a deep green. The two trunks that stood at the path were a strange, dead, grey colour. They had no leaves, but the branches stretched over the path, twisting and clasping until they formed a sort of gateway. Bilbo peered into the woods, and saw darkness. Her stomach twisted in fear, and she looked up at Gandalf. He was still on his horse, muttering to Thorin. “Right, then. Here I do leave you. Take care that you stay on the path, for if you leave it, it is likely that you will never find it again. Do your best to conserve food and water. Take good care of each other, be careful not to lose anyone in the dark. And so, I am gone! Stay on the path!” And with that, he clicked at his horse, and galloped away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the company stared after their wizard glumly. A wizard would certainly be a lucky thing to have on such a tricky path. Now they felt very much alone, and worried about their safety. The trees seemed to be staring at them. Nobody moved. After a while, Balin cleared his throat, and climbed off of his pony, attaching his pack onto himself. The other dwarves looked around uneasily. “Is there no way we could continue on with the ponies, and send them back from the other end? Surely it would be a faster trip on ponies,” squeaked Ori nervously, hands gripping his reigns tightly. Bilbo shook her head fiercely, staring around. “No, we must let them go back now!” she announced loudly. Then she turned to the company and muttered, “Have none of the rest of you noticed Beorn following us as a bear in the trees, watching us?” Very quickly, the rest of the dwarves dismounted, freed the ponies of their packs, and set them off back towards their home. Bilbo thought she heard the pounding of large paws running after the wee things, and all of them heard the roar as Beorn retreated. Bilbo shuddered. She liked Beorn, but couldn't help feeling most dreadfully scared by the thought of his huge, bear body, running through the woods. 
> 
> Now the company turned to look at the trees. The sun was climbing higher in the sky, but it looked dark as night in the forest. None of them seemed eager to move, but at last, Thorin set his brow and walked through the gate, the rest of his company following.
> 
> \--------
> 
> Mirkwood! Turmoil! Bilbo thinking she's daring! Lots of baking! Quite a bit in this chapter. And so we begin the Mirkwood times. Are you excited? I am. I'm planning a oneshot based on the company's adventures with Thranduil, sort of AU-y, separate from this fic. Does that sound interesting, if vague? Tell me about it!
> 
> No really, tell me about it!
> 
> I live for comments. Seriously. No really. I check my email pretty much every two hours, hoping for comments. Sad? Maybe. Probably. But it's who I am, dammit. So please do comment, let me know how you're feeling about things! Thanks for reading.
> 
> (Ooo, and separate note. Special note. Because I love you and want you to be happy. You may have noticed, in my list of baked goods, a chocolate cake with tomatoes in it? That is a real cake, friend! It's from a book I used to read when I was a kidlet, called Thunder Cake, and it was Russian, and there was a girl who was scared of thunder storms, and a badass Babushka, and a chocolate cake with tomatoes. You can't even taste the tomato, it just makes the cake really rich and moist and delicious. Here is the recipe, follow it, have fun with it, LOVE IT AS I HAVE. http://www.patriciapolacco.com/participation/kidstalk/questions_week/week_3/cake_recipe.html )


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The company travels through Mirkwood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the company stared after their wizard glumly. A wizard would certainly be a lucky thing to have on such a tricky path. Now they felt very much alone, and worried about their safety. The trees seemed to be staring at them. Nobody moved. After a while, Balin cleared his throat, and climbed off of his pony, attaching his pack onto himself. The other dwarves looked around uneasily. “Is there no way we could continue on with the ponies, and send them back from the other end? Surely it would be a faster trip on ponies,” squeaked Ori nervously, hands gripping his reigns tightly. Bilbo shook her head fiercely, staring around. “No, we must let them go back now!” she announced loudly. Then she turned to the company and muttered, “Have none of the rest of you noticed Beorn following us as a bear in the trees, watching us?” Very quickly, the rest of the dwarves dismounted, freed the ponies of their packs, and set them off back towards their home. Bilbo thought she heard the pounding of large paws running after the wee things, and all of them heard the roar as Beorn retreated. Bilbo shuddered. She liked Beorn, but couldn't help feeling most dreadfully scared by the thought of his huge, bear body, running through the woods. 
> 
> Now the company turned to look at the trees. The sun was climbing higher in the sky, but it looked dark as night in the forest. None of them seemed eager to move, but at last, Thorin set his brow and walked through the gate, the rest of his company following.

The forest was silent. When the dwarves walked, at least then there were scuffling, shuffling noises to worry about. But whenever the company stopped for the night, a thick, overwhelming silence fell over Mirkwood, the sort of silence that made you uncomfortable, like a blanket spread on top of them. They did not speak much, when walking or when stopping, except to quietly mention the dwindling food and water supplies, and to mutter about “this damnable forest”. Bilbo hated it. The dwarves were used to caverns and tunnels, living under the earth. But Bilbo was used to sunshine and flowers, a lovely breeze dancing around her. In this black, closed-in forest, she felt like she would surely suffocate. 

  
  


After a stretch of time which felt like ages, they stopped for the night. At least, they assumed that it was night. In the darkness, they had little sense of day and night, they merely sensed that the darkness had somehow grown blacker, and so they stopped. Bombur set up a lovely little fire, but stomped it out almost immediately. The moment the fire was crackling and bright, they could see eyes in the trees and the bushes. Horrible, huge, scaly looking eyes, as though they had stopped in the middle of a colony of truly gigantic insects. And not only that, moths descended upon them. Now Bilbo was accustomed to moths. She had had her fair share of annoyances, dealing with them as they got in her closet and nibbled holes in her skirts. But these moths were as big as her hands, all shades of grey, and they made the most terrifying flapping! So instead, the company sat in a big huddle, whispering to one another, passing food and drink around the circle. They slept in a similar way, everyone curled up together, and Bilbo found herself in the middle, with arms and legs flung over her. There was a time when she would have been irritated by it, but now it was a great comfort, for every time she shut her eyes she felt a great fear that she had been separated. They awoke a little while later, Oin certain that daylight had broken, and they each had a large muffin and a mouthful of water before continuing on.

  
  


Days were spent this way. They would walk until their legs could no longer support their sleepy bodies, and then they slept in a huddle, only to wake up what could have been hours or minutes later to continue on. None of them ate or drank very much, but their heavy packs grew considerably lighter none the less. One day, Kili spotted a thin black squirrel in the trees, and he brought it down with an arrow. The company was pleased for fresh meat, until they cooked and sampled it. The meat was sour, bitter and dry. They spat it out, and decided then that they should not trust any food found in the woods. The best days were those when they came to a thin part of the wood, where the thin, grey light reached down to them, and there was fresher air. They would always rejoice, certain that this signaled an end to the forest, but as the path wound on, they became weary, fearing that they would never reach the end of Mirkwood. But the worst was still yet to come.

  
  


After what felt like months but which may have been weeks, Thorin stopped the company. “We have traveled for an age,” he said. “We have walked, and it seems we have come no closer to the end of the path. We have followed this path well, but I fear it will not take us from here before our food is fully gone. One of us must climb up into the trees and tell us how close we are to the end.” The dwarves made noises of agreement. And then they all turned to Bilbo, and she groaned. “Must it be me? I am not a fast climber, and my legs ache already. And besides, I have a terrible fear of being high off of the ground.” But the dwarves argued that she was quicker than they were, and that she was much lighter than they, which would make it easy for her to reach the very tippity top of the tree. And her fear of heights was surely less than her fear of starving to death in a horrible, stuffy wood. And so it was that her pack was removed, and her body was boosted up onto a low branch. Bilbo felt the unease rising in her, but forced herself to climb, branch to branch, knot to knot, higher and higher. It helped now, that the forest was so dark. She was able to lie to herself about just how high up she was. After a while, the air above her grew lighter. Her lungs filled more easily of the fresh air. She climbed faster, eager to see the sunlight again. 'My goodness, though, I hope there aren't spiders up at the top,' she thought nervously as she brushed a cobweb off of her arm. Hobbits have a peaceful relationship with spiders. The spiders eat up all the nasty little bugs that nibble on food and clothing, and so the hobbits don't kill them. But Bilbo had never liked spiders. One had dropped onto her head once when she was young, and she hadn't trusted them since. So when her head popped up over the leaves, she gave a quiet shriek as spiders showered over her, and nearly fell. But she clung to the tree, shook the offending creatures off, and then looked around. Clean air filled her lungs. For a moment it was too bright to see. But as her eyes became used to the light, she felt her heart leap into her throat. The sun was setting, filling the sky with red, orange and gold. She was sitting on a dark green canopy, which rustled in the wind. And there were _butterflies_! Beautiful, huge butterflies, with black, velvety wings, fluttering all around. She gave a startled laugh, and lifted her face, just breathing. After a while, she heard a loud shout from the dwarves, asking what she could see, and it reminded her of her purpose. She looked around, and her heart sank. All she could see was trees. What she didn't realize was that she was on one of the shorter trees, with the rest rising up around her, as though she was at the bottom of a bowl. They were actually rather close to the end of the woods, though of course she couldn't see that. And so she climbed back down, and told them what she saw. 

  
  


The dwarves did not take the news well, grumbling and shouting. Thorin stayed very quiet, his head bowed. After a time, he raised it, and cleared his throat, silencing his company. “In light of this, I think it best if we try to find a different way out. I think it time we leave the path.” Dori and Bofur protested, as did Balin and Ori and Oin. But they were outnumbered. Even Bilbo thought it best to leave the path, despite Beorn's voice in her head demanding she stick to it. After a few minutes of debating, Thorin turned to Bilbo, and stared down at her. “You looked down from above. You will take us in the right direction.” She blinked at him. 'Well, there's no need to be so very dramatic about it,' she thought grumpily. They were all staring at her, expectant and worried. Bilbo frowned. Then she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to picture where the trees had seemed thinnest from above. She stepped off to the right of the path. “This way ought to do us well,” she said, trying to sound confident. And so, they all walked off of the path, looking back the way they'd come more than once. Bilbo kept her eye on the path until she could no longer see it, and she sighed.

  
  


They walked, and walked, and then walked a little more. They walked for days, and they walked for nights. Bilbo found it very hard to sleep indeed, for every time she nodded off, she dreamt of laying on a lovely, grassy hill, with a picnic basket that was full of every delicacy she could think of. Fruits and pastries, a lovely huge steak, sweet vanilla ice... The dreams were so vivid that when she awoke, she would start crying rather piteously at being in so dark a place with so little food. The worst morning of all came when they opened their food packs, and found them empty! The dwarves had shouted for a long while, at each other, at their hobbit, at the trees. It seemed little squirrels or something of that ilk had gotten into their packs, eaten their food and nibbled holes in their cloaks. Bilbo couldn't even find it in her to shout, she just sat there, miserable and defeated, until Bofur wrapped an arm around her shoulder, murmuring that everything was going to be okay. 

  
  


And still they walked. They walked til they were all moaning for the painful hunger in their bellies. The forest was black as pitch, it must have been dark, but they didn't dare stop. The trees were becoming more and more gnarled, and a few times Bilbo had to be helped as she got stuck in some sort of itchy, sticky rope that stretched between trunks. After a while, Thorin, who had been muttering angrily under his breath for at least half an hour, stopped everyone. “Hobbit, you will climb up again to see where we are,” he said gruffly. Bilbo was too tired and hungry to argue. She was once again hoisted into a tree. She climbed a good way, but there was more of the horrid rope wrapping around the upper half of the tree. As she tried to decide whether to go on higher, or to climb back down and explain, or just to stay where she was until such time passed that the company would believe she'd gone (because at this point, she was certain it didn't matter which way they went, they were almost surely bound to die), she heard the dwarves shouting! Her head snapped to attention, staring down as though if she opened her eyes wide enough she would see what was happening. But almost immediately, the shouting stopped, and there was a terrible rustling noise, followed by a series of high, slithery noises, like voices whispering and rasping. Bilbo felt cold, and nearly launched herself out of the tree. She clambered down as fast as she could. Once on the ground, she stumbled around with her arms outstretched, hoping to find a dwarf without having to speak up. But it was no use. She was all alone. The dwarves were gone! Bilbo whimpered, staring this way and that, seeing dark trees and darker shadows. She felt the hysteria rising in her, and without much thinking, ran forward. She ran in the direction she thought she had heard the rustling head. She ran hard, as though a legion of pale orcs was following her! Her feet pounded along with her heart, and her lungs ached. 

  
  


Bilbo lurched to a halt. She spun this way and that, and screamed out, “Dwalin! Balin! Fili! Kili! Bofur! BOFUR! THORIN! THORIN OAKENSHIELD, ANSWER ME! _DWARVES_!” No answer came, and she sat down hard at the base of the tree, tears pouring out of her eyes, breath coming hard and fast. She went still, almost as though she were sleeping. Her mind was so full of panic, that it had shut down completely. Goodness knows how long she sat there, numb, dead to the world, a dozen scenarios dancing through her mind about the fate of her poor dwarves. And she pictured the sunset she had climbed into, and the butterflies, and the tiny spiders, chasing them down. Scuttling after the butterflies, making such a loud racket with their little pincers. Nipping and biting, bigger than anything-

  
  


Bilbo blinked. And then she blinked again. Something was on her. It was on her and it was moving. And she found she couldn't move her legs. She forced her mind into the present moment. There was something touching her. Something long and thin. She squinted at her knees. They were covered in that itchy, sticky rope. It was white, and looked horribly familiar to her now that she focused on it. She looked up slowly, her head moving against her will, and very nearly threw up.

  
  


The spider was at least five times her size. It's abdomen was as big as Dwalin, or bigger. And the legs, such long, knotted, terrible legs. It was securing her body with web, the way spiders do with their prey. Thinking nothing of repercussions, or any sort of plans, she opened her mouth wide, and screamed as loudly and shrilly as she physically could. The spider responded with a terrible shriek of it's own, scuttling backward in fright. Bilbo thrashed around, still screeching, and managed to work her sword off of her hip. She cut her legs free and scrambled to her feet. The spider came scuttling at her, making the most wretched noise. She was afraid. But more than that, she was angry. A red haze seemed to blot out the world, and she raised her weapon. Bilbo attacked with a horrible rasping shout, stabbing and jumping, cutting cruelly at legs, aiming for the scaly, evil eyes. And all the while, she shouted, scolding the beast with all she had in her. “I WAS QUIET!” she roared. “I kept to MYSELF!” A stab to a leg. “I was GENTLE and SWEET!” A slash across the pincers. “I FED them, I WATCHED them, I TOOK BLOODY CARE OF THEM AND YOU BLOODY TOOK THEM YOU BLOODY BASTARD!” The spider was hissing and screeching in pain, and still Bilbo stabbed at it, finally passing the front legs and stabbing ruthlessly into the abdomen, all the while yelling, “Die! DIE! DIE, you damnable, EVIL THING! WHY WON'T YOU _DIE_!” She stabbed so hard that the spider's head flew away a couple feet. The corpse curled its legs in, and fell into an awful heap. Bilbo stood over it, panting, sure that she would vomit if there were anything in her stomach. She looked at the horrible creature, the long, bleeding legs, and the sharp, wicked, oozing sting that poked from it, full of poison. She looked at her sword, every bit as wicked, dripping with thick, dark blood. A feeling came over her. Bilbo felt, all of a sudden... Brave. She was _brave_. And she knew what she needed to do. The dwarves, _her dwarves_ , were taken by spiders, of that she was quite sure. And it was up to her now, up to her to find and save them. They needed their burglar. Bilbo looked all around, until she saw a long thread of webbing in the tree she'd sat at the foot of. It reached over to another trunk, and from there to another. And so she did was made sense, wiped her sword on the grass, and followed the spider's web.

  
  


She walked for some time, sword in hand. The web stretched on, joined by more webs from other parts of the wood, and she knew that she was likely headed for the middle of a large nest. Pausing for a moment, she pulled her ring from her pocket, and slipped it onto her finger. It was good that she did, for a moment later, a spider came creeping right above her head, moving slowly the way she'd come from. Likely it had felt the wild vibrations on the web from Bilbo as she dispatched of her attacker, and was sneaking off to investigate. Bilbo didn't hesitate, but jumped as high as she could, sword held high above her head. There was a terrible screech as her sword slid into the stomach of the big brute, and she ducked away as the body fell, dead. She moved on in this way, pausing now and then to kill a spider. Sometimes they went down fast and easy, other times there was a struggle. At one point, she killed one, only to have another drop into view, hissing and spitting and trying to attack that which it could not see. It joined the growing list of the dead fairly quickly. Soon, Bilbo found herself standing in front of a wide circle of trees. The trunks were barely visible for all of the webbing. Spiders of all kinds sat about, hissing to one another in thin, reedy little voices. Bilbo crept closer, careful not to touch any of the threads, and listened as the spiders whispered about the feast they would have when their victims were dead. To Bilbo's disgust, she saw one of them holding a fat webby sack. By the size of it, she guessed it was Bombur. She could hear him yelling in a muffled way from inside, and she watched, horrified, as the spider plunged it's sting into him, drawing a terrible shout from within the sack. Moments later, he was still. Bilbo looked around, and saw sacks hanging from a branch. There were bits of dwarf sticking out of them, a foot here, a nose there, and Bilbo could see Kili's bow hanging from another. She knew she had to act fast. The one holding Bombur was all but licking it's pincers, preparing to bite! Caution forgotten, Bilbo raced forward, and stabbed the beast right through it's mouth! It shuddered around her blade, pincers snipping feebly, and then it rolled backward off of the web, landing with a thud below. Bombur, luckily, had still been attached to the branch, and simply swung back and forth helplessly. Bilbo had little time, and took off at a run. As she suspected, the spiders took up chase. They were hissing and spitting and making a horrible noise! They chased her for a while, at least ten of them, before she stopped. They, of course, did not see her, and kept crawling along at a great speed. Bilbo doubled back, and killed the last, very old, very fat spider, who was there keeping watch. 

  
  


Bilbo took to the branch, cutting the sacks from it, and lowering them gently to the ground. Once they were all down, she slipped off her ring, and sliced into the web, careful not to nick them. Soon they were free, though they all looked rather sickly and green, wobbling on their feet. Bilbo shoved at them, begging them to run, but none of them took note of her, staring around with heavy eyes. Fili and Kili seemed a little more conscious of their surroundings, and pulled out weapons, seeing the webs and sensing the danger. Already, Bilbo could hear the spiders returning. It sounded like many more than had left. Bilbo ran around the dwarves, pulling on their arms, yanking on their braids. She even slapped Dwalin across the face. It seemed to waken them up a little. “Quickly, the spiders are coming, you must ready for battle _now_!” she commanded. And then spiders spilled into the small clearing. Bilbo ran here and there, slashing legs out from under the bulbous bodies, defending her friends. But the dwarves were moving slowly, and it seemed they would be overwhelmed. The panic cleared from Bilbo's head for a moment, and she knew all at once what she needed to do. She ran over to Dwalin, and punched his arm, hard. He looked down at her, confusion in his dark eyes. “I will lead the spiders away from here, and I need you to lead the company away. Do you understand?” He was shaking his head, protesting, but she ducked away, ignoring him as he shouted her name. Behind a tree, she slipped the ring on her finger, and then started to climb. A few minutes later, the spiders began hissing and panicking, as great heavy bodies started falling, dead, to the ground. Bilbo climbed up high, behind one of the spiders right in the middle of the battle, and gave a repeat performance of her high, piercing scream. In the confusing moment that followed, she sliced off the spider's head, and threw it hard at a nearby creature, who squeaked in dismay as a head suddenly flew at it. The spiders had stopped fighting all together, pincers clicking in a fury. Bilbo climbed higher, and shouted as loudly as she could. “I am here, spiders, or can you not see me? Can your weak, ugly eyes not find this stinging fly?” The spiders rushed toward the sound, and Bilbo took off, running on branches, jumping from tree to tree, yelling back in a sing-song voice. “You'll not catch me if you can't keep up, you fat, clumsy brutes! First you scurry, then you search, then you _die_!” The little lass let out a fearsome cackle, careening around through the trees, running far until she reached the end of the web she had been following. She jumped to a low branch and watched the spiders coming after her. There must have been fifteen at least. She shuddered quietly as they ran past, and she made her way back toward the nest as quickly as she could.

  
  


When she returned to the nest, the dwarves were gone. She looked all around her, and could just see boot tracks leading off into the woods. She followed them, quickly and quietly, trying hard not to look at all the creatures she had killed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, she heard noise up ahead of her. She was nearly with them again! But as she was about to pull the ring from her fingers, she saw, up ahead, a fair head of long, blonde hair. She slipped forward, silent and invisible. Her dwarves stood in a circle, weapons shaking in weakened hands, and there were no less than four dead spiders in a heap around them. Standing on and around the spider, were elves. They had their weapons now pointing at the company, demanding they surrender. Bilbo held her breath. The dwarves were complying! They put away their weapons and allowed themselves to be forced along quickly by the elves. It was a testament to how starved and defeated they all felt that they would rather be taken prisoner by the elves than to stay in the woods a moment longer. Bilbo chased after them, seriously considering calling out to them. But as she made up her mind, the woods ended. Bilbo cleared the tree-line, truly gasping for air. She saw an elf, that same tall, slender blonde, spin around at the sound, and she quietly crept toward him, moving quickly over a stone bridge. The elf stood by the door, ready to close it, staring back at the forest. Bilbo slipped quickly past him. She was free of Mirkwood at last!
> 
> \--------
> 
> I found this chapter tricky to write, but I think I like it at last. Please do tell me if you like it as well, and thanks very much for reading!


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dwarves meet with Thranduil, and things are handled about as well as Bilbo would expect them to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, she heard noise up ahead of her. She was nearly with them again! But as she was about to pull the ring from her fingers, she saw, up ahead, a fair head of long, blonde hair. She slipped forward, silent and invisible. Her dwarves stood in a circle, weapons shaking in weakened hands, and there were no less than four dead spiders in a heap around them. Standing on and around the spider, were elves. They had their weapons now pointing at the company, demanding they surrender. Bilbo held her breath. The dwarves were complying! They put away their weapons and allowed themselves to be forced along quickly by the elves. It was a testament to how starved and defeated they all felt that they would rather be taken prisoner by the elves than to stay in the woods a moment longer. Bilbo chased after them, seriously considering calling out to them. But as she made up her mind, the woods ended. Bilbo cleared the tree-line, truly gasping for air. She saw an elf, that same tall, slender blonde, spin around at the sound, and she quietly crept toward him, moving quickly over a stone bridge. The elf stood by the door, ready to close it, staring back at the forest. Bilbo slipped quickly past him. She was free of Mirkwood at last!

The court of King Thranduil was truly magnificent. Everything was pale, polished stone, intricate carvings, and dark, gleaming wood. There were elves wandering through the wide halls, staring and glaring at the dwarves, unaware of Bilbo glaring right back at them. 'Well, really. I'd like to see how well each of _them_ would fare, lost in a strange forest with massive spiders, of all the judging, rude...' the track in her mind continued like this as she snuck after her company, for she was, understandably, in a rather bad mood. Her mood worsened as the company was shoved up and up hundreds of stairs, high into the middle of the court where great paths twisted like tree roots and platforms bloomed on them like stone flowers. It was all very beautiful, to be sure, but the stairs had not been built for short hobbit legs, and Bilbo was beginning to cramp, which did nothing to cheer her up.

  
  


At last, they were all crowded onto a very large platform, right below a large, elegant throne. On this throne, sat the King of the elves of Mirkwood; Thranduil. When Bilbo first set eyes on him, she felt her heart lift a little, her pulse thundering madly, for he was quite the most beautiful elf she had yet to set eyes upon. His golden hair fell from under a crown of wood and berries, like a great waterfall down over his shoulders. His face was a pale oval, set with eyes the colour of the sky after a storm. His brow was dark and frowning, and under a straight nose, his sweet mouth twisted a little in amusement. The King did not even bother descending from the throne to speak to the dwarves, but he towered over them, looking like a statue, carved of the rock of the very mountain, wrapped in silvery robes. Bilbo was enchanted, and nearly let herself get run into by the same blonde elf who had unknowingly let the hobbit in. He stepped forward, a fist against his chest, gave a deep bow, and began speaking that beautiful, lilting language of the elves. Thranduil listened, and then turned his eyes upon Thorin, who stood, weary and wary, at the front of the company.

  
  


“It has been an age indeed since last I laid set eyes on you, Thorin, son of Thrain,” he said. His voice was deep, soft, and slid over Bilbo like silk. “Tell me, what were you doing in my woods?” Thorin rolled his eyes up to stare at the elf, and Bilbo started at the look of pure dislike she saw in him. His lip snarled upward, and he gave a simple, “My company and I were travelling. We took your forest as a short cut, because we were starving.” “You carried many weapons. One might see them as a sign of intention to attack my people.” “We brought our weapons that we might hunt for food, because we are starving.” “You and your company were the cause of a bloody battle between the elves of my court, and an entire nest of rampaging spiders.” “We came upon the spiders accidentally, searching for food, because we were starving.” Thranduil's cool composure was beginning to crinkle around the edges. He looked quite irritated. It was no help at all that a couple of the dwarves were sniggering into their fists, too drained to worry much about their situation. Bilbo was wringing her hands, staring at the fair elf with dread. There was a flash of something in his eye, something primal and wild, and then he sneered and looked away from the dwarves. “We shall finish this conversation, _dwarf_ , once you are feeling more refreshed,” he said, and then turned back with an icy smile. “I hope you will find your quarters most comfortable.” The King called out in Elvish, and then the dwarves were being dragged away. Bilbo followed, but cast a final look back at Thranduil, who seemed to be staring directly at her, that small smile still in place. Bilbo shivered, and then scurried away.

  
  


The quarters Thranduil had referred to turned out to be a number of prison cells, deep in the darkness. The dwarves were relieved of their weapons, and then locked in, each muttering and cursing, glaring out at their captors. Bilbo squashed back against the wall the entire time, watching where each of the dwarves were stashed. There was a fuss when the elves separated Fili and Kili, the brothers most reluctant to be away from one another. Bifur, as well, thrashed and cursed most vigorously against the elves. He was thrown rather hard into his cell, the door locked very quickly behind him. Thorin was dragged off to a cell much further down the stairs, deliberately removing him from his dwarves. Bilbo frowned at that, though she supposed it made sense to keep a leader from his peers, and his peers leaderless. After they were locked in, a number of elves appeared with food. Each dwarf was given a loaf of crisp bread, a chunk of cheese, and a mug of water. It was simple, but it was food. Bilbo nearly gave herself away by groaning at the scent of the fresh, warm bread, but luckily none seemed to notice. The elves, for their part, delivered the food and then slipped blankets through the bars on the doors, and then disappeared swiftly, leaving Bilbo to consider the situation. The thirteen dwarves were spread over five floors, with Thorin all alone in the lowest cell. There was enough of a curve to the walls, that a good amount of walking was needed from one cell to another. Bilbo quickly went to Balin's cell, and pressed herself against the bars. “Balin!” she whispered. The dwarf look round at the noise, but of course, he could not see her. “Balin, it's me, it's Bilbo!” His eyes narrowed. “Bilbo Baggins, I can here you, but I confess I cannot see you,” he replied. Bilbo sighed. “You cannot see me, because I am invisible.” And so she quickly explained about her ring. “I would take it off, you see, but I fear that I would be seen. Oh Balin, such a mess we're in!” she squeaked. The old dwarf frowned thoughtfully, nodding a little, and then rose to his feet. “It is true, this is a mess. But luckily, you have managed to escape it. You can become invisible, and so, you will find a way for us to escape.” He tore off a chunk of bread and passed it through the bars, eyebrows jumping to his hairline as she grabbed it out of his hand. Bilbo chewed fiercely, doing her best not to gulp all the bread down straight away. “How can I get you all out of here? There is no way, not without getting caught?” Balin frowned, nibbling at the cheese. “I agree, there is no clear way before us now. But I have faith in you, little hobbit. Gandalf told us you were full of surprises, and you have proved it many a time. I believe you will save us, Mistress Bilbo. But be careful, mind. It would not do to get caught.” Bilbo agreed, and then bid him goodbye, and moved on to the next cell. 

  
  


And so Bilbo went, cell to cell, whispering to her dwarves. Some were startled. Oin began shouting quite madly, and Bifur, worryingly, heard her voice and just started laughing, great, horrible cackles that echoed. She had to remove her finger and show it to him to make him stop. Bofur was relieved, and hugged her through the bars, murmuring about how worried he had been, and demanding that she should remove her ring so he could look at her and make sure she was truly there. She did so, and his face brightened, before twisting into a worried glare. “What's tha', then?” he asked, pointing at her forehead. Bilbo reached up and cringed, feeling something wet on the bruised flesh. She frowned at her bloody fingers and shrugged. “One of the spiders got a little closer than I should have let him, is all,” she sniffed, remembering the great brute with his clicking pincers. Bofur frowned. “I'll kill them all for tha',” he said simply, and then took up his water and wetted the edge of his blanket, and saw to cleaning up her wound. Bilbo hugged him again, kissed him on the cheek, and then moved on. Gloin clapped her on the shoulder, Dori clapped a hand over his mouth, and Fili just clapped, laughing heartily and embracing her, which was difficult, due to a gash on his arm that made it difficult to move. He shrugged off her worry and kissed her forehead, declaring that the sight of Erebor itself couldn't please him more than the sight of her. Bilbo blushed, and flapped at his hands, which seemed to be trying to pull her in through the bars. Kili had a similar reaction, leaping to the bars when he heard her voice, and grabbing her as best he could, resting his forehead against her the entire time they spoke. Dwalin surprised her most of all. The dwarf asked her to remove the right, and once she had done so, grabbed her by the waist, lifting her to match his height, and kissing her right on the corner of her mouth! As she blushed and stuttered, he looked her straight in the eye. “I promise you this, hobbit. If ever you do something as foolish as trying to take on an entire pack of spiders, on your own, again, I will take you straight back to the Shire and lock you back in your hole, am I clear?” Poor Bilbo was so flustered, she could only nod. He sent her on her way with a look of relief in his eyes. Little Ori had to sit down with wet eyes, overwhelmed and just beaming to know she was still with them. Nori was pleased to see her, and grasped her hand, and pressed it to his forehead, whispering his thanks. He seemed particularly interested in the ring, and she promised to give him a better look at it when they were all free. Poor Bombur was so spent, that he had sat down quietly, swallowed down all the food and drink given to him, pulled his blanket up under his nose and fallen immediately asleep. Bilbo let him rest, deciding to visit him again when he was better rested.

  
  


Bilbo walked down three flights of stairs to find the last cell. Thorin sat within, on his knees on the stone floor, his head bowed, food and drink untouched. The little lass stepped quietly up to the door, and just stared at him. His long hair was tangled and still had web threaded through it. He sat in just his blue shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, his dark trousers, and his boots. It seems he had had a bit of a tantrum and thrown his coat and mantle around the cell. The part of Bilbo's mind not preoccupied in thinking how truly gorgeous he was thought it rather silly and overly dramatic of him, letting his temper flare about as though he was a faunt being refused something he wanted. And not sating his hunger or thirst? Foolish, stubborn dwarf. She licked her lips, and wrapped her hands around the bars.

  
  


“Thorin, you know, if you don't eat, you will still be locked up, and Thranduil will probably just laugh at how weak you become,” she said. Thorin's head snapped up, and he gazed straight at her, not seeing her. “What trickery is this?” he snarled, standing, shoulders hunched, fists clenched, ready for a fight. Bilbo huffed and pulled off her ring. “No tricky, you oaf, it's _me_ ,” she said, glaring at him. “And I'll thank you to keep your voice down, I'd rather like to stay hidden!” Thorin stared at her. He was very still, and his face slackened with surprise, making him look young and vulnerable. Bilbo felt suddenly a bit awkward, and looked down at the floor, heat rising to her cheeks. She very quickly shared her tale, explaining about Gollum and the ring, and as she spoke, Thorin slowly approached the door that stood between them, and curled his hands over hers. Bilbo looked up and met his eyes, which were burning down at her, both hopeful and wary. “How can I be sure this is not some trick the elves are playing on us? You might be no more than an illusion.” Bilbo rolled her eyes at that, she couldn't help it. “Honestly Thorin, how do you find the energy to move in the morning with the weight of all that mistrust holding you down?” He raised an eyebrow at that but stayed silent. Her frown deepened. “Fine, okay, what would you have me do to prove myself then?” she asked, stomping her foot like an irritated child. “Tell me something that only Bilbo Baggins would know,” he answered. She gave an exasperated sound and glared at him. “Oh, for goodness- Oh, fine. Fine. Something only I would know.” She scrunched up her face, trying to think. “Something only I would know, something only I would know, would you please stop staring at me like that, you're making it difficult to think, something only I would... I have a scar on the back of my knee from a time I fell into a thorn bush?” Thorin shook his head, snorting. “What good does that do me, I have no idea if it's true or not.” She thought a little more. “Your nephews are the biggest flirts in all the world?” “Everyone west of the Mountain knows that.” Bilbo stomped her foot again, and then blushed as a thought came to her. “When it's your turn to keep me warm on cold nights, you prefer to sleep facing me, so I can hide my face in your furs if my nose gets chilly.” The dwarf released her hands as though they were on fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They were both very quiet after that. Bilbo reassured Thorin that she didn't mind being held at night, for she did indeed get cold. Thorin asked for further details about the ring. She explained it once more, and then shared the news of the rest of the company, that all were eating and drinking and resting. She added that she was rather glad they had been captured. Thorin had been indignant over that, though she assured him it was due only to the fact that here they had food and water and shelter, and the spiders would be much easier for her to kill, thanks very much. He had smiled at that. The pair ended up kneeling on either side of the door, shoulders touching, passing the bread back and forth. They talked for a long while, trying to come up with a plan for getting away, and when they could think of none, sharing little stories of their worlds. Thorin chuckled at the story of her first kiss, and Bilbo blushed at the story of his. When Bilbo heard an elf coming down the stairs, she slipped her ring back on, and whispered a quick goodbye to the dwarf. She found a little spot behind the stairs and curled up there, watching as Thorin ate a little more bread, and then lay down on the floor in the corner of his cell, wrapping himself in his coat. Later, when the sound of his teeth chattering reached her sensitive ears, Bilbo padded over and pressed herself against the bars, slipped her arms around him, and did her best to keep him warm. 
> 
> \--------
> 
> This was a difficult one to write, mostly because I want to include both versions of Thorin and Thranduil talking, which is not easy. But here it is anyway!
> 
> And as a point of interest, I have posted a oneshot AU fic, where Bilbo doesn't have her ring on and is captured by the elves as well, and then has to go play diplomat with the elf king! It's a bit raunchy and fun. :}
> 
> Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter, please comment and let me know what you think. Thanks for reading!


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo finds a way out of Thranduil's court.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They were both very quiet after that. Bilbo reassured Thorin that she didn't mind being held at night, for she did indeed get cold. Thorin asked for further details about the ring. She explained it once more, and then shared the news of the rest of the company, that all were eating and drinking and resting. She added that she was rather glad they had been captured. Thorin had been indignant over that, though she assured him it was due only to the fact that here they had food and water and shelter, and the spiders would be much easier for her to kill, thanks very much. He had smiled at that. The pair ended up kneeling on either side of the door, shoulders touching, passing the bread back and forth. They talked for a long while, trying to come up with a plan for getting away, and when they could think of none, sharing little stories of their worlds. Thorin chuckled at the story of her first kiss, and Bilbo blushed at the story of his. When Bilbo heard an elf coming down the stairs, she slipped her ring back on, and whispered a quick goodbye to the dwarf. She found a little spot behind the stairs and curled up there, watching as Thorin ate a little more bread, and then lay down on the floor in the corner of his cell, wrapping himself in his coat. Later, when the sound of his teeth chattering reached her sensitive ears, Bilbo padded over and pressed herself against the bars, slipped her arms around him, and did her best to keep him warm.

Bilbo spent the entirety of the next day wandering through the great halls of Thranduil's palace, feeling quite irritated by the situation. The doors, she had discovered, were enchanted. They would only open at the command of the king. She managed to slip out, unseen, with a hunting party, but when she did, she saw that the court was entirely surrounded by forest, with a great, cold river running along the back end. It disappeared over hills, and she was uneasy at the thought of following it. The hunting party didn't return till the sun was beginning to set, and she was hungry, cold, and crestfallen when at last she stepped back through the doors.

  
  


Luckily, she stumbled upon a number of great pantries deep under the hill. She found it easy enough to borrow a loaf of bread or a tomato when the hunger hit, though she was always frightened that her thievery would get her caught. So she didn't eat often, and when she did, she didn't eat much.

  
  


The only real luck she had was in stumbling, accidentally, into a nook where Thranduil often sat to hear reports from his guards. Bilbo sat on the floor at his feet for hours, staring at his serene face. She frowned almost the entire time, trying to understand him. She had heard him speak to many of his elves, asking questions, giving orders. He seemed like a cautious, but otherwise fair sort of chap. He was just, caring, perhaps a little cold. And then she thought back on Thorin's attitude over the course of the trip, how hard he had been, how unforgiving and callous. Bilbo found herself thinking that perhaps the elves were completely justified in their dislike of the dwarves, and perhaps the dwarves needed to reconsider the events of the past.

  
  


Bilbo wandered through the court in that was for over a week. She would spend the entire day searching for a way to rescue her dwarves, find more evidence pointing to the idea that there was no escaping, and then return to the cells, defeated, to the company begging her to give them good news. After a while, her disappointment gave way to agitation, and she found herself snapping at the dwarves more and more. She spent the majority of a night pleading with Thorin to speak to Thranduil, to tell the elf of their plans, to ask for help. What harm could come of it? And so, Thorin spoke to Thranduil.

  
  


It did not go well.

  
  


Bilbo sat among the dwarves, fuming to herself, occasionally muttering about the stubbornness of bloody dwarves, cursing the day she had decided to go with them. After a while, Balin called out softly to her. She padded over, angry little tears pricking at her eyes. The older dwarf reached out and patted her cheek. “Come now lass, it was a gamble that didn't work out, that's all. I've no doubt in my mind that you'll find us a way to freedom,” he said, giving her a kind little smile. It was meant to be comforting, but it only made Bilbo feel worse. She smiled at Balin, and nodded, and tried not to let on how fully she doubted herself. Then she went down to Thorin. He was pacing around in a fury, fists clenched, eyes glowing in the dark. Bilbo shuddered, but went forward anyway, slipping off her ring. He whirled around, pointing at her accusingly. 

  
  


“Do you see, now? See why we can't trust those spawn of orcs to do anything but sit back and let my people suffer? Oh, of course you don't, you sit there with your pretty smiles and your fine airs and you simper at us all, tell us to reason with them-” Bilbo smacked her hand against the bars. “Don't you even start with me, Thorin Oakenshield, I told you to be _diplomatic_! I told you to go up there and be charming and intelligent, it was _you_ that insulted him! In his own court! Loudly enough that I could hear you, I could, from five floors below you! I could hear you clear as day! What would you do, then? In his place? A stubborn, hostile group, known to hate you and your kind, tromps onto your doorstep, is rude and irritating when you try to talk to them, and then their leader starts shouting at you, insulting you so that all your people can hear? What would you do? Do not try to pin this on me, you bloody fool, I only-” Thorin grabbed her by the wrist and pulled till her shoulder was pressed against the bars. His grip was tight on her arm, and there was fire in his eyes. Bilbo stared up at him fiercely, their faces close, both breathing hard and thrumming with tension. There was a hard silence between them, and then something in the air seemed to change. Bilbo was all too aware of her body pulled flush against the bars, almost right up against the dwarf. The way his fingers dug into her skin. And she saw the way his eyes became a little less hard, and danced over her face, going to her lips more than once. Thorin's body was bending down toward her, his grip on her arm loosening a little, his face so close to hers that Bilbo was sure she could count each one of his dark lashes. Thorin's eyes narrowed, and he released her arm slowly. “Find our way out,” he said in a soft, throaty voice. Bilbo turned and bolted, slipping on her ring as she went, somehow feeling as though she was fleeing from a danger even greater than getting caught.

  
  


It was another few days before Bilbo stumbled onto the solution. She had been wandering aimlessly through the halls, having partly given up on finding a way to escape and simply feeling interested in learning more about the elves of Mirkwood, when she came to the wine cellar. It was a great, long room, right down in the bottom of the court. There were massive barrels everywhere, casks, kegs, and lining the walls were deep shelves holding thousands of bottles. A pair of elves were chatting at a table as they polished glasses and goblets, discussing a sort of festival that Thranduil was having the next evening. Bilbo stood silently against the wall, sniffing at one of the barrels, enjoying the tingling, sweet smell of the wine within, when another elf entered. Bilbo recognized him as being one of the guards who had been looking after her dwarves! She listened in as the trio chatted, slipping in and out of Elvish. One of the elves was a touch distressed, as he had been been given the task of releasing the empty wine barrels and casks, sending them down the river to Lake Town, and had thought he ought to wait until after the festival, so they might all be disposed of at once. Evidently he had thought wrong, as a message had come down from Thranduil, stating that he was less than impressed that the barrels had not yet been sent on their way. The barrel master was now quite tense, sure he would be in some way punished for his poor judgement. His companion brought out a bottle of wine and poured out three glasses of it, soothing his friend, and saying that they would dispose of the barrels when the glasses had all been polished. Bilbo tip-toed around them, and saw the great wooden barrels, sitting on what appeared to be a trap door. She wandered around them, peering in them, counting them. There were fifteen barrels without anything in them at all! She scurried back over to the elves, and stood close by. They had decided to drink a glass of wine, just the one, mind, to make the day a little brighter. As they drank, though, distracted by conversation and the task at hand, Bilbo tipped the bottle gently, quietly refilling the glasses. The elves did not notice, and were soon getting rather silly. The guard drew up a chair, giggling to himself, and Bilbo could see a ring of keys on his belt. After a few minutes, the strong wine took effect, and the elves dropped their heads onto the table, asleep. Bilbo could have cried, she was so relieved! Quickly, she grabbed the keys, and scampered back to the cells.

  
  


Bilbo released the dwarves, begging them to be quiet, and whispered the plan to them, that they would climb into the empty barrels, and float down to Lake Town. To her great indignation, the dwarves began grumbling protestations!

  
  


“Going down the river in barrels? Goodness me, it sounds rather awful! The water will be cold this time of year, and we'll probably be badly banged up on the way,” said Dori, frowning at her. 

  
  


“Aye, no offence lass, but it doesn' seem a good plan at all! The road along the river is completely uncovered, we'd be spotted the minute we started down!” said Bofur, with an apologetic little shrug.

  
  


“We're being pursued by orcs, they probably know we're here already, suppose they come after us? Barrels don't make particularly effective shields,” reasoned Fili. Bilbo frowned at all of them, and planted her fists on her hips. “Right then. I see your points. How incredibly foolish of me. Quite right. Let's see, why don't we consider one of the many easy ways out of here? Yes! How about those! That one door which isn't guarded by magic, which opens right onto the road that will lead us to Erebor! We'll go that way instead. Oh, wait, what am I saying, _that door doesn't exist and there is no easy way out_!” she hissed. “If you're so against the idea, just go back into your cells, there's a good idea, I'll lock you back up, and we can just wait until a better plan comes along, or until Thranduil decides to kill you all for being complete prats, whatever comes first!” The dwarves were all rather taken aback by the vicious tone of her voice, and a few of them cowed under the hard glint in her eyes. Dwalin finally nodded.

  
  


“The hobbit has a point,” he grumbled. “We need to get out, and there appears to be no other way.” Thorin stared at Bilbo for a moment, and then ran a hand over his face with a heavy sigh. “Lead the way, Mistress Baggins,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo brought the dwarves down into the very bottom of the court, feeling very exposed without her ring, even moreso given how loudly the company was walking. But they reached the cellar easily and without being caught. Bilbo showed them to the barrels, and the dwarves slid inside without comment or fuss. “What now?” asked Bofur, and Bilbo found it hard not to giggle as thirteen dwarf faces popped out of the casks. “Hold on as tight as you can,” she said, flapping a hand at them, and they all slid back in, grumbling a little. The little hobbit snuck over to the table where the elves still sat sleeping. She looked at the guard and winced a little, imagining the trouble he was likely to get into for letting the company get away. So she took the paper on which they were marking the number of glasses polished, flipped it over, and scrawled a little note. Then she slid the keys back into his pocket and went quickly to the big lever which operated the trap door. Even thrusting all her body weight onto it, it would not budge. So she quickly sought out a length of rope that was holding a number of bottles together, and dragged over a pair of casks that were mounted on boxes. She tied the rope around the tops of the barrels, connecting them, and took up her sword. “Brace yourselves!” she cried, and began hacking away at one of the boxes holding up a full barrel. She could hear the elves stirring behind her, and with a loud grunt, she kicked at the weakened box, smashing it, and dropping the heavy cask to the floor. The lever was dragged down by the rope, and the trap door opened. She heard the dwarves cry out as they rolled down, dropping into the river. Bilbo gave a little cheer and ran forward, but her excitement faded to horror as she saw the flaw in her plan. There was no barrel left for her, and now the elves were awake and stumbling toward her. The hobbit let out a yell of frustration, and ran to the opening, diving through before the elves could close it, and fell into the icy river below.
> 
> \--------
> 
> FREEEEEEEEDOM! I hope you liked Mirkwood, for now it is at last over. Phew. Please comment, let me know how you're liking my story, and thank you for reading!


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The company escapes down the river.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo brought the dwarves down into the very bottom of the court, feeling very exposed without her ring, even moreso given how loudly the company was walking. But they reached the cellar easily and without being caught. Bilbo showed them to the barrels, and the dwarves slid inside without comment or fuss. “What now?” asked Bofur, and Bilbo found it hard not to giggle as thirteen dwarf faces popped out of the casks. “Hold on as tight as you can,” she said, flapping a hand at them, and they all slid back in, grumbling a little. The little hobbit snuck over to the table where the elves still sat sleeping. She looked at the guard and winced a little, imagining the trouble he was likely to get into for letting the company get away. So she took the paper on which they were marking the number of glasses polished, flipped it over, and scrawled a little note. Then she slid the keys back into his pocket and went quickly to the big lever which operated the trap door. Even thrusting all her body weight onto it, it would not budge. So she quickly sought out a length of rope that was holding a number of bottles together, and dragged over a pair of casks that were mounted on boxes. She tied the rope around the tops of the barrels, connecting them, and took up her sword. “Brace yourselves!” she cried, and began hacking away at one of the boxes holding up a full barrel. She could hear the elves stirring behind her, and with a loud grunt, she kicked at the weakened box, smashing it, and dropping the heavy cask to the floor. The lever was dragged down by the rope, and the trap door opened. She heard the dwarves cry out as they rolled down, dropping into the river. Bilbo gave a little cheer and ran forward, but her excitement faded to horror as she saw the flaw in her plan. There was no barrel left for her, and now the elves were awake and stumbling toward her. The hobbit let out a yell of frustration, and ran to the opening, diving through before the elves could close it, and fell into the icy river below.

The water rushed up over Bilbo, and for a moment she was frozen, paralysed by the shocking cold. Then she bobbed her head up over the froth and gasped in great mouthfuls of air, pushed quickly down the river. The little lass flew down the river, under the water more often than not, hands desperately trying to grab ahold of something to slow her progress. Soon she was among the barrels, banging into them, doing her best to stay above water. The dwarves were shouting, something was wrong. And, she was speeding along so swiftly that she would surely be swept away from her team and lost forever! As she floundered and panicked, a hand gripped the back of her shirt and hoisted her out of the water. Nori gave her a little shake, and she gripped the edge of the barrel with a smal, gasping laugh.

  
  


“Welcome, Mistress Baggins,” called Thorin from his barrel. The water pushed them all down a ways, and the dwarves all paddled along with their arms to make the journey quicker. Bilbo clung to the side of the barrel as best she could, soaked through, freezing and miserable. Suddenly, Balin began shouting. Bilbo looked around and could see things running through the trees, but she was bobbing around so much she could not make them out. Then, with no warning of any kind, she crashed against another barrel and was stuck, pinned! She looked around, and saw that they had come to a sort of a gate, which had been closed when the elves had seen them coming. There were shouts from the banks around them, and Bilbo made a desperate little noise, certain that they would be caught once again! When she actually managed to take a breath and look around, however, she saw that the situation was much more dire.

  
  


The orcs had found them. Somehow, the orcs had tracked them all down, and now they came running out from the trees, killing the elves who had gathered to reclaim their prisoners. Bilbo forced herself to remain calm, and she tried to see the way they might escape. Her eyes landed on a lever next to the gate, surely it controlled the way out. A few of the dwarves were already fighting off orcs, hopefully creating distracting the enemy well enough. Bilbo began wriggling and pushing, trying to free herself, but she was stuck tight. Nori's barrel had collided with Fili's, and much as she kicked and jostled, she was not stronger than the current that had brought her into this sticky situation. Luckily enough, she was not alone in noticing the lever. Something went past her head, and she looked around to see Kili launching himself at the gate. He latched on, climbed up, and dashed to the lever. He narrowly avoided a slew of arrows from the trees, and was pulling on the lever when an orc suddenly appeared before him, roaring, a great hammer in his hands, ready to strike. Before Kili could react, and before the orc knew what was happening, the hammer fell, hands falling with it, now separated from their wrists. Bilbo watched in a sort of daze as a tall, slender, red-haired elf woman spun into view, slicing through orcs, with the tall blonde prince Legolas firing arrows from above her. Together, they were making quick work of the enemy. Unharmed, although rather shocked, Kili threw his weight against the lever, and it clicked down into place. The gate opened, and the dwarf tumbled off the ledge, landing back in his barrel. He gave a nod to the elf woman who had saved his life, and then pushed off a nearby rock, sailing down the river. Soon, all the barrels were free, and flying down the frothy rapids. Bilbo lost track of much of the excitement, clinging hard to the barrel, eyes squeezed shut against the water. And so, she did not see the waterfall before she was tumbling over it. Shocked by the sudden drop, her hands loosened on the barrel, and she was ripped free.

  
  


Water, white and bubbling, was all around her. Her eyes snapped open, and she looked around wildly as she was swept away, trying to find the light, lungs burning. She would bob to the surface, only to have another wave crash over her head, dragging her deeper under the water. She was deafened, she was blinded, and she was numb in the frigid river. As panic started to set in, she finally emerged, long enough to hear the dwarves roaring. Amid the shouts, one voice in particular was shouting.

  
  


“BILBO! BILBO! WHERE IS BILBO?” The hobbit gave a strangled little yell in response, and promptly disappeared into the foam once again. Bilbo floundered and flailed, tumbling past rocks and debris, becoming almost hysterical, when a hand reached down and grasped her forearm, pulling her out into the air. The little lass gasped in air gratefully, scrabbling at the side of a barrel, and turned to find herself face to face with Thorin. He had a wild look in his eye, a sort of mad ferocity. His hair was dripping, and his soaked shirt clung to him. Bilbo's mouth went dry.

  
  


“Hang on,” he growled, and she did, latching onto barrel and shutting her eyes to the battle going on around her. “I'VE GOT THE HALFLING, GO FORTH!” bellowed Thorin, and there were answering shouts from the company.

  
  


For the next few minutes, everything was chaos. Orc bodies flew past, some dead, some living, some undecided. At one point, the elf prince dropped down to land on the heads of Dwalin and Bifur, and he leapt from dwarf to dwarf, shooting arrows at the enemy. Ori was slinging rocks at anything he thought he might be able to hit. Bofur, for his part, was yelling out a sort of war song, shouting about the many ways a dwarf may end his enemies. At one point, Bombur's barrel skipped out of the water, and rolled down a little hill, knocking orcs right off their feet. Bodies fell left and right, and Bilbo found she could not watch, terrified for the lives of her dwarves, not to mention her own! But after what felt like hours, she heard the company give up a great, triumphant roar. They had escaped the enemy.

  
  


Now battle was over. They were really and truly free! Bilbo was elated, though they did not reach land for a few more hours. When at last a wave pushed them up against the shore, she crawled up onto the rocky stretch of land on her hands and knees, cold, hungry and completely drained, and just incredibly happy to be safe, and to be on solid ground. The little hobbit forced herself to sit up, and smiled weakly at the dwarves, readying herself for the thanks and praise they would likely give for taking care of them, battling for them, and finding their way to freedom.

  
  


What she got, in fact, was a great deal of grumbling, and sour faces.

  
  


“Are we all present, and mostly in one piece?” groaned Dori, pushing himself out of the barrel.

  
  


“That was, I think, the most uncomfortable I have ever been,” answered Kili, flopping back on the ground with a hand over his eyes. Fili nodded beside him. “I think my barrel must have held apples at some point, everything reeks of apples,” he added. Bilbo frowned.

  
  


“I got you _out_ , though! We are free from Mirkwood, free from the prison!” she exclaimed.

  
  


“Frankly lass, if we'd known wha' escapin' was going to be like, I for one would have liked to sit in jail a wee bit longer,” grouched Bofur. Dwalin was nodding beside him. “Never again will I follow orders from a hobbit,” he grumped, rubbing his head tiredly. There were groans of agreement from the rest of the company.

  
  


Bilbo sat there on the ground, listening to her dwarves grumbling and grumping. She looked down at herself, completely soaking wet, and bleeding a little from holding so tightly on to the prickly rope on the barrels. Then she looked at the dwarves, who were a touch more dry, a bit more unscathed, and who had gotten a proper amount of rest and food before the escape. Bilbo frowned. She clenched her fists, determined to keep it together, but clenching her fists only reminded her of how battered her hands were. On a warmer day, with more sleep behind her, and more food to look forward to, she may have been able to hold back. But it was a cold day, Bilbo was exhausted, and no food had escaped with them. So Bilbo did the only thing she could. She burst into tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dwarves all started at the sound of her crying, and whipped around, ready to deal with whatever new threat had upset their burglar. But they were quite shocked to see there was no problem, Bilbo was just sitting in a sodden heap, weeping openly, tears dripping from her chin. Well, the dwarves were taken aback indeed! And decidedly uncomfortable. None of them had much experience with crying hobbits. After a moment of silent debate, Bofur stepped forward. 
> 
> “Um. Bilbo? Lass? Are you- Are you alrigh'?” he asked cautiously, his hands fluttering around almost comically. Bilbo leapt to her feet, backing away from the lot of them, her wet little face twisted in anger and disappointment. “I'll tell you what, since I've made such a horrible job about saving you, perhaps next time I will just leave you behind! Let you rot behind bars, while I go ahead and deal with Smaug! Perhaps I will sit with the dragon, and we can take tea, and chat about how horrible, rude and insufferable the great bloody dwarves are, and how lucky we both are to be rid of them!” she turned and walked away, leaving the dwarves standing in a cluster, watching her, feeling really quite guilty indeed.
> 
> \--------
> 
> Well, this has been a short chapter after a big of a break. Life has been a bit crazy on my end, and I haven't had all that much time to write, but I have missed it! At any rate, the company is out, and Bilbo is, understandably, upset.
> 
> Comment, let me know how you like it, and thank you for reading. :}


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo catches a bit of a cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dwarves all started at the sound of her crying, and whipped around, ready to deal with whatever new threat had upset their burglar. But they were quite shocked to see there was no problem, Bilbo was just sitting in a sodden heap, weeping openly, tears dripping from her chin. Well, the dwarves were taken aback indeed! And decidedly uncomfortable. None of them had much experience with crying hobbits. After a moment of silent debate, Bofur stepped forward. 
> 
> “Um. Bilbo? Lass? Are you- Are you alrigh'?” he asked cautiously, his hands fluttering around almost comically. Bilbo leapt to her feet, backing away from the lot of them, her wet little face twisted in anger and disappointment. “I'll tell you what, since I've made such a horrible job about saving you, perhaps next time I will just leave you behind! Let you rot behind bars, while I go ahead and deal with Smaug! Perhaps I will sit with the dragon, and we can take tea, and chat about how horrible, rude and insufferable the great bloody dwarves are, and how lucky we both are to be rid of them!” she turned and walked away, leaving the dwarves standing in a cluster, watching her, feeling really quite guilty indeed.

The company set up camp in a dense bit of forest near the river. When night fell, the dwarves spent a great deal of time arguing as to whether or not they ought to have a fire, Dwalin, Balin, Thorin and Nori arguing that a fire would do little good, and that it was likely the flames would only draw attention from their enemies. Dori, Kili, Bombur and Gloin all argued that they'd freeze in their wet clothes with no fire, and Fili pointed out that they weren't well hidden as it was, and they'd likely fight much better if they were warm and dry. This argument went on for a good hour, during which time Ori and Dwalin went off into the wood to look for food. They emerged after a while with two squirrels, some roots, and a handful of berries. After a great deal of hissing and grumbling, a tiny fire was raised, in order to roast the squirrel meat. The dwarves sat in a tight circle around it, to block as much light as they could. It was during this time that Bofur look up, eyes narrowed, staring around the circle.

  
  


“Oi, where's Bilbo got to?” he asked, and a number of the dwarves started at that. It seemed, in their desire to give the hobbit some space to cool down in, that they had lost sight of her. A few began to panic, drawing their weapons uneasily, but Thorin merely hunched his shoulders, staring into the fire.

  
  


“No need for concern. The halfling has been sitting with the barrels since we arrived,” he grumbled. The dwarves all look round, frowning, for while they could see the barrels clearly, they couldn't spot their burglar. But Kili stood up, keen eyes shining in the firelight.

  
  


“Aye, I can see her pipe smoke, she must be wearing that ring of hers again,” he said, shrugging and sitting down again. Fili peered off in the same direction. “Yes, I see it now. I suppose she's still angry at us,” he murmured, frowning. Bofur gave a great sigh, chewing on the end of a root.

  
  


“Aye, well, o'course she is, and well she should be! She goes to all tha' trouble, saves our hides, and no' for the first time, either, when she could o' run, left us behind. But no, she rescues us, and we frown at her and tell her off for it. I say we all owe her an apology,” he said. And with that, he stood from the circle, and walked down to the barrels, leaving the rest of the dwarves to consider his words.

  
  


Bilbo had indeed been sitting on top of the barrels, smoking her little pipe and feeling rather miserable. The cold had come rolling in, and her damp clothes were sticking to her body. She felt exhausted after goodness knows how much time she had spent clinging to barrels, and she was starving. She gave a brief thought to going to join the dwarves, warm up by the fire, but there was a tickle in her throat, her nose felt runny, and she didn't feel like dealing with the ruddy brutes just yet, sitting in their stubborn circle, too pig-headed to apologize. So instead she did her best to warm up with a pipe of rather weak weed she had found growing by the water. It wasn't working very well.

  
  


“D'you know, I don't think any one of us would've even thought abou' using those barrels,” came a voice beside her. Bilbo looked around. Bofur was standing there, staring out at the river. He shrugged. “Now, tha' may be because it's a mad plan, but I think mainly, it's because none of us would have gotten our heads out of our behinds long enough to look for a plan that wasn't 'kill all the elf bastards.'” He chuckled. Then he looked around in her direction expectantly. Bilbo gave a great sigh, and pulled the ring from her finger. Then she passed the pipe to Bofur, who nodded, and puffed on it thoughtfully. He gave a great cough at the bad weed, and pulled a face at her. She smiled, and Bofur grinned back cheekily. The pair stared out at the river a little while longer, before Bilbo started shivering. Bofur peered up at her, eyes crinkling with concern.

  
  


“Are you alrigh', lass? You're looking a wee bit pale,” he asked. Bilbo shrugged. And then shivered. And then sneezed. Bofur frowned. “Come'ere then, let's get you to the fire,” he said, and lifted Bilbo down. The hobbit huddled in close to him as they walked back, and space was made for them by the fire. Bilbo was wrapped in a blanket, and she stretched her feet out toward the flames, but she still felt cold. Her nose was running, and she couldn't seem to stop shaking. The third time she sneezed, the dwarves all turned to stare at her. Bilbo ignored them, staring at her toes with a growing sense of dread. She was beginning to feel dizzy. She tried shutting her eyes against the spinning sight before her, but that only seemed to make it worse, as though she was falling through darkness. Feeling very weak all of a sudden, the little lass slumped over sideways, her head landing against Bofur's arm.

  
  


“Mistress Baggins?” she heard Thorin's voice from across the fire, but her throat felt thick and she couldn't answer. The dwarves were all muttering and moving around her, but she found it hard to make out any words, or to tell one voice from another. Bofur's concerned face swam into view, and she knew he was talking to her, but the words weren't making sense. Then Kili was there, frowning, holding her face between his hands. Bilbo stared at him, unblinking. His face kept going dark and then brightening up again, and his eyes looked unnaturally huge in his face. He very suddenly disappeared and was replaced by Oin, who was poking and prodding at her face, opening her mouth, staring into her ears, tugging at her cheeks. She opened her mouth with half a mind to tell him off, but before she could get the words out, the world slid to the left, and everything went black.

  
  


The dwarves were fully panicking. Ori was off filling a pot with water, Fili was off with Dori looking for weeds and herbs in the woods, and Bofur was just shouting at everyone as he cradled Bilbo's head. Thorin had stood up the moment the hobbit had lost consciousness, and was adding more wood to the fire, grabbing blankets from any pack he came across. Working quickly, he built a sort of nest out of them, and then went to Bofur. Without a word, he crouched in front of the dwarf, and took Bilbo's face between his hands. She looked pale, and her skin was clammy. Thorin frowned, and gently lifted her in his arms, carrying her limp body over to the blankets. He covered her fully, and then sank to the ground beside her, pushing hair back from her forehead. He stood back long enough for Ori and Oin to try to force some weak tea down her throat. She coughed most of it up. A few words passed between the leader and the medic, and then Thorin straightened.

  
  


“Mistress Baggins is ill. We will remain here until she is well enough to travel. Set up camp,” he ordered.

  
  


A few hours later, a sort of cluster had been formed. All of the dwarves were sleeping in a large pile, with Bilbo in the middle. Even with the blankets and body heat, she was still shaking. Thorin frowned. Feeling somehow responsible for the sickness, he had chosen a spot directly beside her, in order to watch her more closely. Her lips were moving a little in her sleep, and her brow was furrowed. The little lass began shivering violently, and Thorin wrapped an arm around her, pulling her even closer to him, pressing her tight against his body. The dwarf closed his eyes, and gave a silent prayer for his burglar. Then he pressed her head against his chest, fingers sliding into her hair, resigned to a sleepless night of worry.

 

Bilbo came very slowly back into consciousness, feeling bewildered. Everything was strange and fuzzy. Why was her bed so incredibly warm? Frowning, she moved to crawl out of bed, to open a window, perhaps even to get a honey cake from the pantry, for her stomach felt ever so empty. But she found she could not move. The hobbit blinked. It was dark, and it seemed she was outside. Why was she outside? Rolling her head around a little, she could see stars above her, sparkling through leaves. There was a soft, fiery little glow, tracing everything with gold. What was going on?

 

Bilbo slowly became aware of arms around her. A big, warm hand resting on her back. Fingers running through her hair. Arms holding her against a broad, hard chest. She licked her lips, frowning. She felt as though she were covered in fur. She tried to look up. All around her was breathing. The big chest heaving with breath, snores all around her, melding with the sound of the wind and the crackling fire. It was a thick sound, a sound like humming. Humming. A musical hum. The world was humming, and her head was so woozy. Her eyes skimmed up the chest, to a thick neck, to a face. It was a dark face, but a handsome face. Dark hair, lined with gold... No, lined with silver. Thick brows. Stormy, blue eyes. A soft mouth above a thick beard. It was a face made of hard lines, a masculine face, and she thought she ought to be scared, after all, it was dreadfully improper to have a male in your bed. But the face was kind. The soft lips were moving, and the dark eyes were gazing down at her with such tender worry. A voice was rumbling all around her, like a purr, and the world was humming louder to matchthe voice. The fingers in her hair slipped down to press against her forehead, and to cup her cheek. Was she humming? Was she glowing? Was she as golden as he was? Bilbo was reaching up, her fingers pressing against his forehead, and cupping his cheek. The thick brows were drawn together. Worry. Why was the beautiful man so worried? Someone so beautiful should not be so worried. The face was getting larger, blocking out her vision of the world. The humming was drowned out by a beating in her ears, like one of the big drums she had seen for sale at the market the other day. Those soft lips were still moving. Bilbo pushed up, and swallowed the rumbling voice. Her mouth pressed against his, and for a moment, they were both still. His mouth was so warm, and so sweet, and she pressed against them more firmly, wanting more, and now they were moving against hers, pressing back. His fingers dipped back into her hair. She was pulled so hard against her body. His beard was tickling her, and she couldn't breathe, and she never wanted it to stop. But the golden light was flooding her vision, and her head felt so heavy. Bilbo pulled back, and dropped her head to the ground. The world was humming. And she was asleep again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE MOMENT I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR!
> 
> Alright! Well! I have to admit, I have been having a hard time feeling inspired to write this fic recently. Life on my end is hectic, I can't seem to get a job, I have no money, and I may be going to an expensive school this fall. I don't know how much more of this story there will be. Hopefully more. But this is the moment I have been waiting to write for a long time, the first kiss. Did you like it? What do you think? Please comment, and let me know. Thank you for reading!


	22. Chapter 22

Hello, beautiful people!

This, for me, is a very gloomy update, because I don't typically like to abandon projects before they're done. But I've thought about it, and I have reread this fic, and I've decided that I don't like a number of the things I've written. It was incredibly ambitious of me to go from not writing these characters at all, to essentially trying to rewrite such a classic novel. I think, until I have figured out how to best write the characters, I am going to put this fic on hiatus. I apologize to anyone who was invested in this, and it won't be down forever, I just have some re-writing that needs to happen, and I feel the need to practice more before I attempt a project like this.

That being said!

If you have been following this story, and have enjoyed my style, I have a proposition for you. I will be taking requests. If there are any fics you'd like to see, with whatever AUs or ships or other such things featured, comment and let me know! I'd like some practice in writing, so I will happily do any request I am offered. So please, do not hesitate to ask!

Thank you so much for sticking with me so far, you have all been incredibly sweet, and I am incredibly grateful for every kudos and every comment.

Love and kisses,

honeycakes


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